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SOMETHING BEHER. 

’ 1 


3 ^ 



BOSTON: - 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 


NEW YORK: 

CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 


Copyright, 1877, 

By lee and SHEPARD. 
All Rights reserved. 



Electrotyped and Printed by 
Rand, Avery, and Company, 
tiy Franklin Street, 
Boston. \ 


A 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER !.• 

On the Tramp 5 

CHAPTER 11. 

Royal Manning’s Household 16 

/ 

CHAPTER HI. 

The Drummer’s Secret . . . . ‘ . . .34 

CHAPTER IV. 

A Jack at all Trades 46 

CHAPTER V. 

Comrades . . ' * . 56 

CHAPTER VI. 

Blasted Hopes 71 

# 

CHAPTER VII. 

The New Birth 85 

3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Working up a Case loo 

CHAPTER IX. ■ ' 

,An Unprofessional Detective 115 

CHAPTER X. 

Exit Gooch 127 

CHAPTER XI. 

The New Gardener 139 

CHAPTER XH. 

Roy’s Wife 151 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Quits ..... V' 164 

CHAI^TER XIV. 

On the Tramp again 176 

CHAPTER XV. 

Waifs of Society i88 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Roy’s Evening Out 197 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A Member of the Ring 207 

CHAPTER XVHI. 


A Late Visitor . 


220 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


CJjaptcr ©ne. 

ON THE TRAMP. 


EG pardon : could you oblige me with the 
loan of a quarter ? ” 

A jolly-looking beggar was the man, 
who, with his arms thrown ' over a fence, stopped 
the horse of Marcus Graves on the public high- 
way, one bright June morning, and with easy assur- 
ance proffered his request. 

Graves was about to ride on with a decided 
negative ; but something in the cool manner of the 
strange figure caused him to change his mind, and 
he reined up his horse. 

“ Sorry to hear an old soldier in time of peace 
asking for quarter,” said he. 

“ Who never begged for it in war,” coolly 


5 


6 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


answered the tramp. “You’re right, young man: 
it looks odd. But when Uncle Sam cuts off the 
rations of the defenders of your homes and fire- 
sides you wouldn’t have them starve, would 
you } ” 

‘ Marcus Graves, thus interrogated, looked down 
from his elevated position, with an amused smile 
on his handsome face. He was a young fellow of 
perhaps four and twenty, fashionably attired, with 
a decided dash of exquisitism in the make-up of 
his exterior. His well-knit frame, the quick glance 
of his eye, and a certain hardness of the muscles 
of his jaws, marked him as a man of activity, who 
could on occasion be obstinately strong both in 
brain and muscle. But now he was evidently 
arrayed for conquest, not on the battle-field, but in 
the boudoir. A rosebud in the lapels of his coat, 
his moustache young, hardly vigorous, stretched 
and pointed to its utmost extent, and the scent of 
the hair-dresser hanging about his light locks, gave 
evidence of the careful culture of the outward 
man, and contrasted strongly with the queer figure 
pinioned to the fence. 

“Starve! Ah, my man, that won’t do I You 
don’t look the character: there’s a plumpness 


ON THE TRAMP. 


7 


about your person that would do credit to an 
alderman.” 

The beggar in turn allowed a smile to lift the 
corners of his gray moustache. He was a man of 
forty-five, with curling gray locks straggling out 
from beneath a faded army cap, whose visor, nearly 
separated from its original position, flapped before 
his eyes. A round, good-humored face ; a pair of 
gray eyes sunk deep in their sockets, with dark 
shadows beneath them ; a portly figure clad in a 
ragged army blouse; cheap cotton shirt thrown 
open, displaying a brawny neck through the mazes 
of a long, tangled beard ; pantaloons of mingled 
dyes, dirt and grease predominating, with fringed 
bottoms, not man’s adornment, but the rough work 
of rocky paths and briery passages ; and rusty 
boots through which the bare toes occasionally 
“ went in and out,” — were all strong points in the 
make-up of the individual anxious to negotiate a 
loan. 

The whole figure, rough and strong in bone and 
muscle as it must have been, was indicative of 
laziness and forsaken strength ; a figure that might 
excite curiosity, perhaps awaken pity, but could not 
create fear, for there was not a malicious sign in 


8 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


any portion of the good-natured, unwashed vis- 
age. 

Oh ! Fm well fed,” he said lazily. “ Fve no rea- 
son to complain of that. This old coat is the 
passport to a good square meal anywhere I show 
it. It’s the thirst that plagues me, young fellow, 
or I shouldn’t have stopped you.” 

‘^No doubt of it,” said Graves, as he saw the 
eyes of the tramp turn towards the door of a 
country store a few rods below them. ^‘That’s 
what plagues most of you fellows, and makes a 
tramp like you a terror to all honest people.” 

“Right again,” said the tramp, without the 
faintest show of anger : “ it put the devil into some 
of us. It did into me in the old fighting days; and 
I shouldn’t wonder if Uncle Sam got more lick 
out of his boys by the help of old Nick’s liquid 
fire inside of ’em than he could in any other way. 
It doesn’t act so now: it just makes me sociable 
and happy, that’s all.” 

“ It makes you what you are. I’ll bet the quarter 
you want so much,” returned Graves. 

“ Sorry I’ve not the coin to cover that bet, young 
fellow ; for you’d be sure to lose,” said the tramp. 

“ Why don’t you work ? You look like an able- 
bodied man.” 


ON THE TRAMP. 


9 


Work ! do you know how many men like me 
were turned adrift when the war closed ? ” 

“ Pshaw ! that was ten years ago. In all the time 
since then you might have found some way to earn 
an honest living, had you desired it.” 

“ Perhaps I might,” answered the tramp thought- 
fully ; “ but then, I never found any thing to suit 
me half so well as this.” 

“You never tried, old chap: that’s plain to see,” 
said Graves. “ Had I your muscle, Pd beat a liv- 
ing out of the world in a manly fashion, not in the 
disgraceful way you set about it.” 

“It suits me. I was always fond of change ; 
and as the best of us ban only obtain food, lodg- 
ing, and clothing, why should I complain ? Pve 
good wholesome air to live on, everybody’s larder 
to appease my hunger ; I can crawl into a loft on a 
rainy night, or sleep on the grass beneath the stars 
when they shine. You can’t call it dishonest, for 
I neither steal, rob, nor murder ; and some of your 
best-fed and finest-dressed men do that.” 

“ It’s a lazy, worthless life,” said Graves. 

“ Worthless, yes ; but lazy, no. There’s work in 
it, for it’s pretty hard tugging sometimes to make 
a day’s wages in the way I do ’ 


lO 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


All this from the tramp’s lips in a half-jesting,; 
half-serious manner, like an old story oft repeated. 

Have you a home anywhere ? ” 

“ No.” 

Friends } ” 

No.” 

Wife or child .? ” 

The tramp’s eyes wandered off across the fields ; 
a shade of feeling crept over his face ; he shifted 
his position uneasily. It was a random shot, but 
it had grazed a nerve that tingled at the touch. 
The answer came slowly, almost sadly, “ No, nei- 
ther wife, child, nor friend.” 'Then he added with 
a shy, half-ashamed manner, as if to choke some 
impulse which prompted him to make a better 
showing of himself, “ I could make friends with 
Sandy McClosky there in the grocery if I had a 
quarter : a good friend he’d be while it lasted.” 

Marcus Graves was no philosopher, not much of 
a scholar; only strong on one point, — the study 
of character, a branch of his business in which he 
was anxious to excel. This had prompted him to 
question the beggar ; and by this he was enabled to 
see through the disguise of flippant speech, and, 
from that flash of feeling he had endeavored to 


ON THE TRAMP. 


II 


conceal, to gain a b^ter opinion of the man before 
him. He had not taken to this sorry life from love 
of it. 

You have had trouble, old fellow,” said Graves, 
in a kindly, hearty tone he had not used before. 

“ Who hasn’t .? Have you been free from it 
yourself } ” 

Graves colored, started, and for an instant looked 
across the fields. The tramp noticed his agitation, 
and like a skilful soldier followed up his advan- 
tage. 

“ You’re young, dress well, ride a good horse, 
have friends, and hope to gain favor with one who 
likes to see rosebuds blooming on your breast ; but 
there’s something in your past life you’d like to rub 
out. I’ll bet the quarter you’re going to loan me.” 

Another random shot that struck ; or why did 
Marcus Graves spur his horse, and then angrily 
pull him up, when the animal had been as quiet 
as a lamb 

Did you ever see me before ? ” he said quickly. 

“ I can’t say certain. I’ve a faint suspicion I 
have met you somewhere.^ Have you always lived 
in these parts ? ” 

No,” shortly answered Graves ; and then, as if 


12 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


to check further questioning, resumed the offensive. 

In what regiment^ did you serve ? ” 

I’ve forgotten.” 

‘‘Forgotten.? impossible!” 

“ Not when one don’t care to remember. Haven’t 
you found it so ? ” 

Marcus Graves winced again. 

“ Ashamed to remember I ” he said with a sneer. 
“ Why don’t you tell the truth .? ” 

“ That is not the truth. I am not ashamed to re- 
member my life in the battle-field and in the camp. 
It is the only portion of my life worthy of remem- 
brance. I was an earnest patriot, a trusty soldier ; 
and in my four years’ record there’s not an act I 
could wish erased. I fought not for life, but for 
death : that was the only victory I wanted. That 
denied me, life became worthless.” 

He was terribly earnest in speech now, — this 
tramp, who a moment before lay like a log against 
the fence, erect, his face flushed with passion, his 
frame quivering with emotion, awakened manhood 
struggling within him. 

“ What I am, I have made myself. I have no 
right to shame my dear old comrades of other 
days. They knew me as a soldier. They shall 


ON THE TRAMP. 


13 


never, by any speech of mine, be called to blush 
for the tramp. I’ll bear my sins alone.” 

“ Then you confess your life is not an honorable 
sequel to your former record,” said Graves. 

“ It is a sin against the flag we bore so bravely.” 

“ But you still wear the uniform : why is that, if 
you are so anxious to hide your former life } ” 

What coat would serve me better } It gives 
me hearing, where no other would.” 

“ What were you before the war } ” 

The tramp sunk back to his old lounging posi- 
tion. 

“ Are you going to loan me the quarter } ” 

Loan, indeed ! when will it be returned ? ” 

“ When you need it as badly as I do, and chance 
to meet a handsome young gentleman on his way 
to meet the woman he adores.” 

Marcus Graves smiled. “The debt would be 
outlawed before that occurs, I hope.” 

“ Hope told a flattering tale,” sneered the tramp. 

“ To you, old fellow ? I should like to hear the 
story.” 

No doubt of it,” answered the tramp angrily ; 
“ but not from me can you learn mine of the past. 
You’re mighty close-mouthed as to your own 
affairs : I’ll take pattern from you. Good-day.” 


14 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


He turned, and walked away towards the store 
below. 

“ Stop, old fellow ! ” cried Marcus. I beg your 
pardon for my inquisitiveness. Come the other 
way with me. At the top of the hill lives a friend 
of mine : he, like you, is an old soldier. He will 
give you hearty greeting, and make you welcome 
to bed and food.” 

“ Tm neither hungry nor sleepy, and don’t care 
to meet old soldiers.” 

“ He’ll find you something better to do than to 
tramp and beg.” 

“Thank you: I want nothing better,” and he 
turned again to walk away. 

“ Stop ! ” again shouted Marcus. “ If I can’t 
serve you in the way I would, take this,” — he 
tossed a bill towards him, — “ and be careful of the 
drink. It’s a pity to see a brave soldier going to 
the dogs. Good-day.” 

Marcus Graves touched his horse lightly, and 
rode away. The tramp stopped, and, resuming his 
favorite position, watched him moving swiftly up 
the hill ; watched him with a troubled look in his 
eyes, a heaving of the breast, as if old memories 
had been stirred by this chance meeting. This 


ON THE TRAM.P. 


IS 

man, a vagabond from choice, his life-work fallen 
from his hands, drifting idly at the pleasure of 
chance ; the other young, strong, hopeful, pressing 
forward to win a prize, a trusting woman’s love, 
— what have they in common ? Who knows ? 

In the road where it fell, lay a crisp and fresh 
bill, four times in value the sum for which he 
begged, — lay untouched, while his eyes followed 
the figure fast disappearing up the hill. Was he 
thinking of Ihe time when he, as young and happy, 
darted along a distant road on the same errand ? 
Who knows ? The horseman vanished. His eyes 
wandered in the same troubled gaze across the 
well-tilled fields to the river beyond, across the 
river to the sunny hills, fastened there in thought. 

“ Neither wife, child, nor friend.” Nothing to 
live for, nothing to hope for : of what could the 
tramp be dreaming ? Who knows ^ 


i6 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


CI)apter Etoo. 

ROYAL MANNING’S HOUSEHOLD. 

O pent-up Utica ” there ; no contracted walls 
of city economy where air is purchased by 
the foot, at a high rate; but 'broad and 
spacious was the room in which Royal Manning’s 
household was assembled on this same bright June 
morning. Open doors to. admit the perfume 
wafted from the flower-beds ^ that lay beyond. 
“Cosey” had been the unanimous verdict of the 
few friends who without cards ” had called to 
congratulate the happy couple, now six months 
wedded ; and “ cosey ” well expressed the aspect of 
that room. Every thing was bright and new, — 
furniture, carpets, curtains, pictures, and orna- 
ments, — but wanting the stiffness of new ac- 
quaintances, as if the taste that had introduced 
them to each other had possessed the rare tact to 
make strangers friends at once. The occupants 



ROYAL manning’s HOUSEHOLD. 


17 


were three in number. Miss Bessie Bradley, who, 
since custom prohibits the mention of feminine 
age, may be described as 

“ Standing with reluctant feet, 

Where the brook and river meet,” — 

was seated^ at an upright piano, pirouetting with 
taper fingers on the keyboard ; for the most critical 
ear could recognize no melody underlying the rapid 
motion of the ivory keys. Petite in form, pretty in 
feature, ringlets and ribbons her chief adornment, 
she was interesting enough to create a desire to 
see the color of her eyes, which, unfortunately for 
the inquisitive, were fastened upon the road beyond 
the garden. 

The lady of the house sat beside a table, engaged 
upon some article of fancy-work. A clear, bright 
face, neither handsome nor homely, but good to 
look at. She could not be much older than the 
young lady in ringlets, yet had a maturer air, 
which the newly married deem it incumbent upon 
them to assume. Gray eyes full of thought, a mass 
of rich dark hair plainly arranged, a graceful form 
in a neat muslin dress ; that’s all, — Mrs. Royal 
Manning. 


i8 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


The master of the house was standing in a chair 
before the mantle, hanging a sabre by its sheath 
upon a nail. He was not a young man. The care- 
ful eye could detect gray hairs among the black 
and curly locks and in the luxuriant moustache, but 
they were few and far between. He might have 
been thirty-eight, perhaps forty. His figure was 
straight and muscular ; his face, bronzed by four 
years of battle-life, was attractive. Keen black eyes 
expressed determination when he was thoughtful, 
but helped with laughing aspect to make up a 
general glow of good humor. That was the usual 
countenance of honest, bluff, gentlemanly Royal 
Manning, a soldier of the Republic. 

There, May, we’ll hang this relic of my warrior 
days over the mantle, to remind us that, now I 
have become a husband, the sword is beaten into a 
ploughshare.” 

“ Very appropriate,” said May, looking up from 
her work with a smile, — “ now you have become a 
hushandmanr 

“Good, very good!” replied Manning with a 
laugh that was strong and hearty. “ Wedlock has 
sharpened your wits. Yes, I am the happy hus- 
band of the best little wife ever erring man was 
blessed with.” 


ROYAL manning’s HOUSEHOLD. ' 19 

He clasped his hands with mock solemnity, and 
looked at May. O blissful state of matrimony ! 
why did I not become, your naturalized citizen 
before } ” 

“Be careful, Roy!” cried May: “don’t break 
down ; that chair will not kand any impassioned 
harangue.” 

“ I’m coming down without a break,” he an- 
swered, stepping from the ehair. Then turning, 
he clasped his hands, and looked up at the sus- 
pended sabre : “ There, old friend, rest in peace 1 
No more shall we in fellowship dash upon the 
enemy ; no more, hand in hand, encounter the 
perils of the battle-field, the glory of triumph, 
the shame of defeat. Oh, rest in peace, old dog of 
war, until you grow rusty with honorable age !” 

“ How very • pathetic 1 ” said May solemnly. 
“You have pronounced the eulogy. — Bess, a 
dirge would be appropriate just now.” 

Bess, with a saucy toss of her head, looked 
round. 

“ Yes, dogs of war. How would ‘ Old Dog' Tray ’ 
suit the occasion } 

“Very bad,” said Roy, “a biting sarcasm.” 

He flung himself into a chair opposite his wife, 
and looked up at the sabre. 


20 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Rather ornamental. Hey, May ? ” 

It has a wicked look,” she replied : “ it makes 
me shudder.” 

Indeed ! then down it comes,” said he, rising 
from his chair. 

“ No, let it hang. I only fear that, like its mas- 
ter, it may occasionally have warlike fits, and 
then ” — 

Well, what then ^ ” 

“ My poor vases would fall beneath the sword.” 

“ Never fear: like its master, ’tis securely tied to 
your apron-string. I couldn’t find any thing else, 
so I ventured to clip one of your wings — I mean 
strings. There’s enough left for all practical pur- 
poses. How time flies ! ’Tis ten years since my 
old friend and I closed our campaign.” 

‘‘And just six months since we closed our 
campaign, — you and I.” 

“Of courtship.? Yes; and massed our forces 
for the battle of life. Yes, yes! then I captured 
the heart which for two years I had so valiantly 
attacked.” 

“Valiantly, indeed!” laughed May. “’Twas 
with fear and trembling, you, the veteran warrior, 
approached the citadel.” 


ROYAL manning’s HOUSEHOLD. 


21 


Which was longing to surrender.” 

“ No, ril not confess that,” with a saucy toss of 
her head. 

“But you do not regret it.? You are happy 
here ? ” And Royal Manning bent towards her 
with a look that boded no good to the delicate 
work on which her hands were employed. 

“Happy, Roy.? I never dared to dream of so 
much happiness. I, a poor sewing-girl, earning 
my living with the needle only six months ago, 
have now a home any might be proud of, and 
a husband ” — 

“ Ahem ! ” very loud and startling from the occu- 
pant of the piano-stool. 

Roy started to his feet. 

“ Halloa ! ” said he, little pitcher’s ears are wide 
open.” He crossed to the mantle, and leaning 
against it looked comically at Bess. 

“What’s the matter now.?” he inquired. Bess 
swung herself round upon the stool, disclosing a 
mischievous face. 

“Can’t you speak a little louder, you two.? It’s 
so provoking to hear only the ripple of a conversa- 
tion which you know will be sure to end in a 
smacking breeze ! ” 


22 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


I was not within saluting distance ; ” then with 
a sigh, I wish I had been.” 

So do I,” returned Bess saucily : “ then I should 
have had a full report of your conversation.” 
Then she laughed long and merrily, a rippling peal 
in notes quite as rapid and far more musical than 
the former effort with the keys. 

What in the world are you laughing at, Bess ? ” 
inquired May. 

It’s enough to make anybody laugh ! You two 
have been married six months, and have not yet 
finished your courting. Remarkable vitality! I 
thought love-making ended at the altar.” 

“Remarkable ignorance, Bess. But you are 
young and green,” said Roy : “ did you, indeed } ” 

“Yes, indeed; and that the flame of love was 
extinguished when the husband, poor man, was 
obliged to rise on a cold frosty morning to build 
the fire,” she continued with a fresh ripple. 

“ That only adds fuel to the flame,” said Roy. 

“That the fountain of affection ceased to flow 
when he had to go a mile to draw a pail of water,” 
continued Bess. 

“ Liquid nonsense ! ” returned Roy. “ You are 
alluding of course now, chatterbox, to our first 


ROYAL MANNINGS HOUSEHOLD. 


23 


effort at housekeeping. But all that is over : every 
thing is nicely arranged ; and we can now bask in 
the warmth of domestic fires.” 

“ If the chimney doesn’t smoke,” cried the chat- 
terbox, which it does, you know, awfully.” 

“ Hang the chimney ! you’d put a damper on 
any thing . — May, what shall we do with this 
girl?” 

“ Let her scoff : it will be our turn soon. Her 
fate is approaching.” 

Bess sprung from her seat. 

** Did you hear his step } ” 

Ha, ha, ha ! ” laughed Roy. 

“ By the pricking of my thumbs, 

Something evil this way comes.” 

*‘It’s Marcus, and you never told me;” and 
without more ado the mischievous sprite darted 
out of the door, and across the garden. 

Stop, stop, Bess ! ” cried May. I heard noth- 

mg. 

“Let her go,” said Roy. ‘‘No doubt she’ll 
meet Marcus ; and, having found him, she’ll mark 
us no more. Do you know. May, I’m getting 
anxious about that young man ? ” 


24 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“ Are you ? He’s a very agreeable fellow, seems 
honest, and is fast winning the affections of our 
Bess.” 

“Yes, I know all that you know; but what we 
don’t know is what bothers me. When, in pursuit 
of happiness, I made my way to the humble but 
comfortable residence of the late Mrs. Bradley, you 
being the attraction, I found this young man pay- 
ing court to Bess in the parlor. I immediately 
imitated his example by making love to you in the 
sitting-room.” 

“ They were well called suit-er rooms,” said 
May, with a laugh. 

“Don’t pun. May: it’s a detestable practice. 
And allow me to correct your pronunciation ; for 
sweeter rooms they must have been, with two 
pairs of lovers. Well, Mrs. Bradley died. You 
must have a home: there was nothing to hinder, 
and we were married, came here, and brought 
Bess with us, a welcome addition to our house- 
hold.” 

“ Dear girl ! she is the light of our home.” 

“ I cannot agree with you exactly, having a star 
of the first magnitude before my eyes. As a mat- 
ter of course, Mr. Marcus Graves follows. I don’t 


ROYAL manning’s HOUSEHOLD. 


25 


object to that ; but I do object to his secretiveness.'' 
Who is he ? He seems to have no relatives, no 
friends : at least, he never Speaks of them.” 

“ You know his business ? ” 

“ Yes : he’s a drummer.” 

** A military man ! ” May laughed loud and long. 

“ Not exactly, May. Our military drummer 
musters his men to battle with the rattle of his 
sheepskin : your civil drummer, with the rattle of 
his tongue, taps the sheepskin of the men he mus- 
ters, and too often makes enemies in his own 
ranks, with short and poor rations not up to sam- 
" pie.” 

“ What are you talking about } He’s a travel- 
ling salesman for a large house, isn’t he.^” said 
May. 

That’s just what I’ve been telling you. He’s 
a drummer. Now, as I have, become the natural 
protector of this young lady, if is right that I 
should know something about this ardent suitor 
who never speaks of marriage.” 

To be sure you should. Why don’t you speak 
to him } ” 

“ What ! pin him in a corner, and, like a stern 
parent, ask him who are his parents, and what are 


26 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


his intentions ? ” and a comical look of affected 
horror overspread Roy’s handsome face. 

‘‘ And what then asked May. 

Ten to one he’d fly into a passion, tell me it’s 
none of my business, and quit the house in dis- 
gust.” 

“ Somehow, Roy, I have faith in Marcus Graves.” 

“Because Bess loves him. The warm cloak of 
affection may cover a multitude of sins.” 

“ For the world I would not bring a pang to her 
dear heart,” said May with deep feeling in her 
tone. “ Her mother for fourteen years was the 
dearest friend I had. When the war broke out, 
my father went to battle. We were all in the 
West then. I was but five years old. What ever 
became of him, I never knew. No doubt he died 
for his country as bravely as he went forth. My 
mother ” — 

“ Deserted you ! ” indignantly cried Roy. “ Fled 
with your father’s friend! It’s a sad story. May. 
Don’t speak of it.” 

“ I was left to the care of strangers ; and this 
kind neighbor, Mrs. Bradley, took pity upon me. 
She was poor ; but, hard as was her lot, I was 
treated as her own child. O Roy ! she was a 


ROYAL manning’s HOUSEHOLD. 


27 


mother to the friendless little stranger ! Heaven 
knows I am grateful. All the tenderness she 
bestowed upon me, I have tried to repay in love 
to her* child. In days of poverty, Bess and I 
shared our crusts together ; and, now that fortune 
has blessed me, her happiness is more than ever, 
with your dear help, to be the aim of my life.” 
She looked up, smiling through her tears. “ Com- 
rades in adversity should be comrades* in pros- 
perity.” 

“ You are right. May. For her happiness we 
will strive together. Comrades, — ah, that brings 
back the old days. May ! But I forget : you do 
not like to have me speak of them.” 

“ You do not mean that, Roy. Am I not proud 
of your war record .? Do I not glory in your tri- 
umphs there, where brave men fought } ” 

Once more Roy’s eye sought the weapon above 
the mantle. '' That old sabre,” said he, if it had 
a tongue, could tell wondrous stories. Ah ! old 
fellow, you failed me once. In those days I had 
a friendship for a man in our regiment, with whom 
I made a queer compact, something after the 
manner of yours and Bessie’s. He saved my life 
one day. ’Twas at Antietam : we were swooping 


28 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


down upon the enemy, — a cloud of horsemen 
with flashing sabres. Just as we reached the foe, 
my horse stumbled and fell. I thought my time 
had come. Between me and a descending sabre 
rode my comrade. I was saved. That night in 
camp we renewed our friendship, and in jovial 
mood vowed that whatever good fortune should be 
in store for us in the future should be shared 
between us. We were both poor, nothing but our 
soldier’s pay. The war ending, we parted. He 
went West in search of friends. I came here, to 
find my only friend, my father, dead, and, to my 
surprise, a small fortune awaiting me. Poor fellow ! 
I often wonder if he fared as well.” 

“And you have not seen him since } ” said May, 
who had been deeply interested in the narration. 

“ No,” replied Roy, “ but one of these days I 
mean to hunt him up.” 

“To share with him your fortune } ” 

Roy rose from his chair, and approached May. 
“ If he be poor, yes ; for I shall still be rich. He 
could not claim my chief treasure, my pearl above 
price, — you,” and he stooped to kiss her. 

“ Ahem ! ” and in the doorway stood Bess, snuff- 
ing the air. 


ROYAL manning’s HOUSEHOLD. 


29 


Roy started with a muttered, “ Bother that 
girl ! ” then sharply, Well, what now ? ” 

“ I smell smoke,” said Bess ; “and where there’s 
smoke there must be fire.” 

“ Not where you are,” replied Roy. “You’re a 
capital extinguisher.” 

“ Did you find him, Bess ? ” asked May. 

“ No,” said Bess with a pout. “ ’Twas a false 
alarm. Oh, dear ! why don’t he come } ” 

“ Poor dear ! ” cried Roy. “ How sad ! Hasn’t 
seen him since last night, — no, this morning ; for 
I’ll be hanged if the sun wasn’t rising when I got 
up to fasten the door after him.” 

“Yes, your father’s son,” said Bess. “What a 
shame ! ” 

“ You’re right,” interrupted Roy. “ I nearly 
caught my death.” 

“ To talk so ! ” continued Bess. “ You know he 
left the house before ten.” 

“ This morning, — yes,” replied Roy coolly. 
“ Quite time to be moving.” 

“ Roy,” interrupted May. “ Don’t tease her. 
See how anxious she is.” 

“ As anxious as a cat to seize a mouse for the 
simple pleasure of teasing it.” 


30 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“O you wicked wretch!” cried Bess. “You 
know we never quarrel. Ah, here he is now ! ” 

A quick step on the gravel, and Marcus Graves 
stood among them, riding-whip in hand. 

“ Oh, here you are, Manning I Call your chick- 
ens under their mother’s wing ; fasten up the hen- 
roost ; barricade your pig-pen ; call out your troops, 
and plant your biggest guns upon the ramparts. 
The enemy is at your door I ” 

“ Halloa I halloa I ” cried Roy. “ What’s the 
matter ? ” 

“ Enemy } what enemy ? ” interrogated May. 

“ Marcus, have you been drinking ? ” said Bess,- 
with an attempt at sternness in her voice. 

“ I told you he was up late,” said Roy. “ Well, 
old fellow, who is the enemy ? ” 

“ The terror of housekeepers ; the devourer of 
cold meats ; the robber of the clothes-line 1 ” said 
Marcus tragically. “ Hush, ‘ take heed 1 whisper 
low,’ — the tramp.” 

A burst of laughter followed the warning. 

“ Yes,” continued Marcus. “I met a true type 
of the fraternity half a mile below. He stopped 
my horse, and begged a quarter. I always make 
short work of the 5 e fellows : so after a parley I 


ROYAL manning’s HOUSEHOLD. 


31 


tossed him money, and rode on. He turned 
towards that shanty set apart for the entertain- 
ment of man and beast, and no doubt will pour 
entertainment down his throat in beastly style. 
So look out. Manning, he may pay you a visit.” 

“Twill be a short one; and I’ll give him no 
quarter.” 

“ Now, having given warning, how are you all, 
particularly my bonny Bess ? ” and Marcus clasped 
the pretty hands with all the warmth of an accept- 
ed lover. 

“Half a mile below, you say,” said Roy. “ Did 
he look rough } ” 

“ Rough, but good-natured ; dress ragged, face 
bloate*d, figure plump. These fellows thrive on 
their pickings, these pests.” 

“Don’t say that, Marcus,” said Roy gravely. 
“ The fellow may have been unfortunate.” 

“Unfortunate.? bah! What’s misfortune but a 
roll in the dust .?” answered Marcus airily. “Jump 
up, shake , ■'urself, and you’re as good as new. 
I’ve no patience ■ with a man who wants vim, — 
something on the side of his face, you know, — 
cheek I ” 

“ Yes,” said Roy ; “a quality which tramps ” (and 


32 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


he mentally added drummers) “ possess in a won- 
derful degree.” 

For my part,” continued Marcus, I never al- 
low myself to be staggered by the blows of fate. 
When they come I take a long breath, and hit out 
straight from the shoulder.” 

Marcus with a lordly gesture closed his inde- 
pendent harangue, placed his arm about the waist 
of Bess, and started towards the piano. 

“ When did you hear from your father, Mr. 
Graves } ” said May quietly. 

Marcus turned about with a scared look. 

Eh ? my fa — yes — oh, yes ! That is — not 
lately.” 

He was well when you heard } ” 

Oh, yes ! beautiful — that is, hearty. He 
wishes to be remembered to all my customers — 
my friends, I mean.” 

Marcus turned towards the piano, in his confu- 
sion stumbling on the trailing skirt of Miss Brad- 
ley ; a lucky accident, for it compelled him to apol- 
ogize, a proceeding that he set about so earnestly 
there was no opportunity for Mrs. Manning to con- 
tinue her questioning. 

Roy, with difficulty suppressing a laugh, bent 
over his wife. 


ROYAL manning's HOUSEHOLD. 


33 


“ May, what are you doing ? ” in a whisper. 

“ Pinning him in a corner,” whispered May with 
mischief sparkling in her eyes. *‘You men are 
so afraid of each other! Woman’s curiosity knows 
no fear. We’ve found out one thing : he has a 
father.” 

“Yes; and one other fact, he’s afraid of him. 
Did you notice his hesitation ? ” 

“ There’s some mystery about the father, that I 
mean to find out.” 

“But not now: give him time. You staggered 
him — after his boast too. He didn’t strike out 
well. Come, let’s go into the garden. The young 
people want to be left alone.” 

“ Certainly,” said May, rising with alacrity : “ I 
want you to look at my heliotropes, they’re just 
splendid ; ” and she placed her arm in that of her 
husband. 

“ All right,” said Roy. “ Good-by, Bess. Don’t 
catch cold. There’s a smacking breeze coming.” 

“And another going,” quickly answered Bess. 
“ Good-by.” Roy laughed, and the lovers 
left alone. 


were 


34 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Cljapter 

THE DRUMMER’S SECRET. 

ARCUS had not “ struck out ” well. His 
boasted independence of the blows of fate 
had succumbed to a few gently-spoken 
words. In themselves of no great moment, they 
had come upon him with crushing power, and, to 
carry out his pugilistic language, had not allowed 
him to put himself into position ” to receive the 
blow. . With the pardonable vanity of young man- 
hood, which having beauty, strength, and smart- 
ness, believes itself capable of conquering the 
world, he had entered upon his career of courtship, 
without a thought that it behooved him to give 
any account of himself or friends ; and for three 
years no questions had been asked. The plain 
and courteous inquiry, coming now after so long 
a silence, seemed to him an entering wedge that 
was intended to pry open the fast-bound door that 
hid the secret of his life. 




THE drummer’s SECRET. 


35 


After the departure of Roy and his wife, he 
stood beside Bess at the piano, drumming in dole- 
ful measure upon the polished case of the instru- 
ment, answering her eager questions in monosylla- 
bles, nervously biting his lips, his brows knit, and 
his eyes following through the window the graceful 
form of the woman who had worked the change. 

If Bessie’s questions were eager, they avoided 
the subject which her quick apprehension told her 
had greatly annoyed her lover, and made him 
appear in a new character to her, who before had 
only known him as a gay, sociable fellow, devoted 
to her, and one who had never approached her 
but with a smiling face. Anxious to woo - him 
from his melancholy mood, she turned the pages of 
her music-book. 

“ Shall I play to you, Marcus ? ” 

If you please, Bess.” 

Well, here’s the ‘ Jolly Brothers Galop.’ Roy 
brought it to me to-day, and May thinks it’s just 
splendid.” 

And beneath her fingers the Jolly Brothers” 
started on their lively way. 

Marcus turned from the piano, marched across 
the room, and sunk into an easy-chair. Bess 


36 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Stopped her playing, and looked at him, a shade of 
anxiety upon her face. Only a moment, and then 
she shook back her ringlets with a mischievous air, 
stepped to the mantle, and, selecting a long, sharp 
blade of dried grass from one of the vases, crept 
behind his chair. 

Marcus was deep in thought, — so deep that the 
curious actions of his beloved made a queer jum- 
ble of his thoughts. 

“ Now, what possessed Mrs. Manning to speak 
of my father.? — a subject to which I have never 
alluded. Can she mistrust me .? Egad ! she nearly 
took away my breath. And yet IVe nothing to be 
ashamed of, only a mystery. Mystery ! why should 
I have a mystery here .? ” 

At this point in his soliloquy, the sharp blade 
was inserted behind his ear. He made a dash at 
it with his fist, thinking it a fly. 

Confound it ! it’s hurting me. This girl loves 
me, and I love her. I’ve only to speak, and she is 
mine.” Another thrust and another dash. Hang 
it ! I’m tormented with dofibts. But confession is 
a sure road to favor. I’ll make a confidante of 
Bess. If anybody else should tell her, I should be 
stung ” — 


THE drummer’s SECRET. 


37 


So he was, by another skilful attack of the smil- 
ing enemy, which again he endeavored to brush 
away. 

“With shame. Yes, I’ll meet it face to face.” 

Face to face, indeed ! The soft arm of Bessie 
was about his neck, and her beautiful eyes were 
looking into his, merry with mischief, soft and ten- 
der with love. 

“ Dreaming, Marcus } ” 

She placed herself on a hassock at his feet as he 
eagerly clasped the hand that slid lovingly into his. 
He looked at the pretty face, and for the first time 
a doubt of himself took possession of him. If 
the truth were known, was he strong enough, good 
enough, to convince her he was worthy of her 
love ? 

“Bess, what a brute I’ve been! Yes, I was 
dreaming of a happy future, I trust, in store for 
you and me. Do you ever dream of that time ? ” 

“ Not I,” replied Bess gayly, determined to shake 
off the gloom which hovered in his speech about 
the bright picture of which be had been dreaming. 
“ When the skies are bright above us, why should 
we seek to peep, even in day-dreams, beneath the 
horizon, when we know not what storms may be 


38 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


gathering there to roll over the brightness of the 
present ? ” 

“ True, but the cautious mariner is ever alert for 
the faintest signs of the coming storm.” 

“Well, I’m not a mariner, and my umbrella is 
always at hand.” 

“ Bess, can you be serious ? ” 

“ I don’t know : try me.” 

“ Bess, I love you.” 

She laughed gayly. 

“ A failure, Marcus. That pleases me.” 

“ And you are to be my wife.” 

“Another, Marcus.” She clapped her hands. 
“ That delights me.” 

“Bess, I know my love is returned. For three 
years we have been all in all to each other ; and 
now, Bess, I tell you I am unworthy of your love.” 

The young fellow’s voice trembled. Bess noticed 
it, but still maintained her gayety. She looked at 
him with a smile. 

“You, Marcus ! now you surprise me.” 

“You trust me fully.? You would go with me 
to the altar hand in hand, beyond the altar to death 
itself” — 


“To death itself, Marcus.” 


THE drummer’s SECRET. 


39 


“ And yet on my part there has been no confi- 
dence ; into my past life you have had no glimpse. 
You took me, a stranger, to your heart, — never 
questioned me ; and, beyond the interchange of 
affection, myself, my fortune, and my home are 
strangers still.” 

“ Marcus, you are very blind. My woman’s curi- 
osity sought in the beginning to know you ; my 
heart’s instinct probed you, to know if you were 
worthy. I found you polite, chivalrous, charitable, 
with a heart open to every cry of distress, a hand 
even ready to proffer assistance. Oh ! I tried you 
deeply, as your purse can show. Finding you true, 
noble, sincere, I had no right, no desire, to ques- 
tion further.” 

But you must know me better, Bess.” 

When you please, Marcus.” 

‘^Then patiently hear me; for on your judgment 
rest my hopes of future happiness.” 

“ Indeed ! Now, Marcus, I am serious.” 

“ Bess ” — 

“ Beg your pardon ! Don’t rise. I may be right, 
I may be wrong. Don’t rise. Is this the abode 
of Miss Nancy Nipper } ” 

Marcus, provoked at the interruption, deigned 


40 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


not to turn his head in the direction of the voice, 
but sunk back in his chair with a groan. Bess 
sprung to her feet, and confronted the speaker. 

A slim, well-dressed stranger, tall, sharp-featured, 
stood in the doorway, bowing with ceremonious 
politeness. 

“ Yes,” said Bess with a smile : ** Nancy is in the 
kitchen.” 

“ Oh, made a mistake ! Yes, yes. Can you point 
out the position of the culinary department of your 
dwelling } ” 

‘‘Take a seat: I will call her;” and Bess whisked 
out of the room to conceal a laugh. 

“ Ah, thank you ! ” He fumbled in his pocket, and 
produced a card. “ Here’s my card.” He looked 
up in surprise. 

“ Gone ! gone without it,” he muttered. “ I went 
to the expense of getting up that card for the ex- 
press purpose of having it placed in the hands of 
Miss Nancy Nipper. Says I, ‘ Simon, don’t be 
shabby. Go like a gentleman. Spare no expense ’ 
— and it’s useless.” 

He strode sharply across the room, turned, and 
faced Marcus Graves. 

“ Hallo, hallo ! ” he shouted. “ Marc — Marc the 
perfect man.” 


THE drummer’s SECRET. 


41 


Marcus sprung to his feet, and grasped the ex- 
tended hand of the stranger. 

Si, old fellow, where in the world did you drop 
from ? ” 

“Well, in truth, Marc” — He stopped in evi- 
dent confusion, scratched his head, and took a few 
vigorous strides across the carpet. “ Hang it. I’m 
always in the way ! I interrupted a tete-d-tete. 
There was a young lady sitting on that hassock. 
O Marc, this is too bad ! I’m in the way. Good- 
by,” and he turned towards the door. 

“ Stop, stop,” said Marcus, detaining him. “ It’s 
all right. But why are you here } ” 

“I — why — well — Look here, Marc, I know 
I’m in the way. I’ll call again ; ” and a second time 
he darted towards the door. 

“ No, no,” cried Marcus, again detaining him. 
“You can’t escape me. I see you’re in love with 
our Nancy.” 

“ Our Nancy ? our } Good gracious, Marc ! you 
don’t mean to say that you are aspiring to the 
affections of that girl ? ” 

Marcus laughed heartily at the comic look of 
misery depicted on the face of his friend. 

“ Ha, ha. Si ! you need not fear. When I said 


42 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


our Nancy, I meant our girl — help, you under- 
stand.” 

Simon’s mouth puckered for a prolonged whistle, 
but he curbed it. 

Oh ! ah ! Then you are one of the family.” 

Well, no,” replied Marcus, confused, “ not ex- 
actly.” 

“ Oh, I see ! don’t blush. But I’m sure I must be 
in the way. I’ll call again.” 

“ Stop, Simon. If you leave this room, we are 
enemies.” 

But, Marc,” said Simon earnestly, '' it might 
blast your prospects, if it were known that you 
and I” — 

“ Are friends, dear friends,” whispered Marcus ; 
‘‘that you were the only one that reached out a 
helping hand to me, a destitute stranger, when I 
entered yonder city three years ago.” 

“ None of that, Marc,” said Simon, blushing to 
his hair, which always wore a blushing hue. “ Don’t 
be shabby. Helping hand, indeed ! — to a loft in 
the sixth story, a bed on a heap of rags, and dry 
bread washed down with water.” 

‘‘You divided your substance with me, Si ; and 
when I forget your kindness may I be as hungry as 
I was then ! ” 


THE drummer’s SECRET. 


43 


Yes ; but, Marc” — 

Hush ! here comes Miss Bess.” 

“Then I’ll just step outside.” 

“Not a step,” said Marcus, with a firm grasp 
upon his arm. 

Bess came into the room. “ I’m so sorry ! ” said 
she. “Nancy is hanging out the clothes, and I 
dare not interrupt her. ” 

“ Bess, Miss Bradley,” said Marcus, taking Simon’s 
hand, “ allow me to present a very dear friend, Mr. 
Simon Stone, my chum.” 

Bess offered her hand with a warm smile. 

“ Mr. Stone, you are very welcome here.” 

Simon took the hand with several quick, awkward 
bows. “ Ah, yes ! thank you, thank you, very 
kind ; ” then dropped it, and backed across the room. 

“ Chum, chum ! ” he muttered, “ and before her 
too ! There’s nothing shabby about that.” 

“ If you will wait, Nancy will be at leisure soon,” 
said Bess' 

“ Thank you : if it’s all the same to you. I’ll look 
her up. Hanging out the clothes } I’ll find her ; ” 
and he darted out of the door, Marcus calling after 
him, “ Don’t go until I’ve seen you again.” But 
Simon was out of hearing. 


44 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“ He’s a clever fellow,” said Marcus, “ with a 
warm heart and a clear head.” 

Marcus resumed his seat, with the evident inten- 
tion of proceeding with the confession interrupted 
by the appearance of Simon Stone ; but just at the 
moment when he had imprisoned the hand of his 
expectant auditor, and cleared his throat with a pre- 
paratory “ ahem,” in walked ^oy and his wife. 

‘^Marcus, that horse of yours wants looking 
after : he has cast a shoe.” 

Marcus rose with alacrity. He had tried his 
best to make the disclosure he knew must be 
made : his secret had grown heavy with the keep- 
ing. But fate seemed determined to bar his good 
intentions : he would seek another opportunity 
when Bess and he were quite alone. It was no 
great matter ; and it was a pleasant relief to be rid 
of the unwelcome task, even for an hour. 

‘'Thank you. Manning. I’ll ride down to the 
blacksmith’s at once.” 

“ I’ll go with you,” said Bess. “ Rollo has not 
been out to-day, and I should dearly enjoy a gal- 
lop.” . 

“ The very opportunity desired,” thought Marcus. 

“ You’re too late, Bess. Rollo is at this moment 


THE drummer’s SECRET. 


45 


bearing our neighbor, Mr. English, to his doctor : 
his wife is sick.” 

“ Then I must go alone,” said Marcus. I’ll be 
back in an hour.” 

Too late, Marcus ! Ride ever so fast, your secret, 
though afoot, is travelling rapidly this way, and will 
meet the ears of your friends with all the harsh- 
ness of accusation. 


46 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


(tijapter jFaur. 

A JACK AT ALL TRADES. 

ANCY NIPPER was hanging out the re- 
sults of her morning labor at the wash- 
tub in the back-garden. Nancy was a 
plump and rosy little body, rather obese, but spry 
of foot and vigorous of arms. Her work was done 
quickly and neatly, both in chamber and kitchen. 
Her tins were scoured to that amazing brightness, 
that they would not only reproduce a correct like- 
ness of the beholder, but with it an extended pano- 
rama of the surrounding objects. Her floors were 
spotless, and her culinary compositions always cor- 
rectly compounded. It is true she puffed ” a lit- 
tle over her work, and so does the locomotive over 
its work ; but nobody finds fault with that. There 
was no nonsense about Nancy. Her sole ambition 
was to obtain a settlement in life ; if it could be 
done by marriage, she was agreeable : if not, she 




A JACK AT ALL TRADES. 


47 


flattered herself she was able, by the help of her 
hands, to make her old age comfortable, and no 
thanks to anybody. 

She had just arranged a sheet smoothly upon the 
line, and was on her toes fastening it with a pin, 
when she was saluted from the other side of her 
snowy bulwark. 

Nancy.” 

Nancy pulled down the line, and peered over it. 

“ Now I’d like to know who — Good heavens ! 
it’s Simon Stone.” 

The line went up with a snap, and Nancy was 
hidden from the gaze of her adorer. In an instant 
Simon was behind the white wall with a beaming 
face and an outstretched hand. 

‘‘Yes, Nancy, it is Simon, — your Simon. How 
d’ye do } 

Nancy, without taking the extended hand, eyed 
him from head to foot. 

“ Well, I declare ! rigged out like a dancing-jack. 
You extravagant dog ! ” 

“ Gay, ain’t it ” said Simon, drawing his coat 
tightly about his form, and turning about in evi- 
dent admiration of his new suit, cut to order by an 
artist. “ Look at the elegance of expression in the 


48 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


back of 'that coat, and the tout e7tsenible of these 
pantaloons. That’s what he called ’em ; and I 
know they’re there, for I paid for ’em. Nothing 
shabby about me.” 

Nancy’s nose went up into the air without a sin- 
gle note of admiration for the slowly-revolving dis- 
play of an artist’s handiwork. Well, and what 
brings you here } ” 

Love, Nancy ; devotion, Nancy ; affection, Nan- 
cy,” said Simon with clasped hands, and a whole 
magazine of those enkindling qualities glowing in 
his face. 

“ Rubbish ! Are you a fool ? Don’t you know 
better than to bring such things here on a washing- 
day.?” 

From Simon’s face the fires went out. 

‘‘ Washing-day ! Confound it, Nancy ! I’m fated 
to call when you are in the suds.” 

“ Because you always manage to come on Mon- 
day, when I’m up to my ears in a tub.” 

Monday washing-day .? That’s why somebody 
says cleanliness comes next to godliness.” 

Simon Stone, what is your present occupa- 
tion .? ” 

Nancy, at present I am a humble but earnest 


A JACK AT ALL TRADES. 


49 


worker in the confectionery business. Have a 
gum-drop ? ” He produced from the pocket of his 
coat a package, and held it towards her. 

No,” shortly. “ Confectionery, indeed ! ” 

Simon put the package back into his pocket with 
a sigh. If Nancy had a weakness, it was for candy ; 
and she spurned his offering. Simon’s hopes fell. 

Nancy, the first time I ever approached you in 
humble admiration of your grace and beauty — try 
a peppermint } ” 

Another package was produced and tendered. 

No,” said Nancy, folding her arms, and looking 
intently into her clothes-basket. 

Another sigh, and the package went back to his 
pocket. 

I was a butcher, an honest but bloody butcher. 
You turned up your nose at the scent of blood.” 

Because I knew you wouldn’t stick to it.” 

“ Then I turned my back upon the slaughtered 
beeves ; and in that higher sphere, the milky way, 
sought to win your love.” 

“ I detest the whole race ! milk-and-water men. 
I’d like to scald them.” 

“ Cremation would suit them better,” said Simon, 
with a sudden lighting of his features toward a 


5 ^ 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


smile. -But Nancy’s face was stern, and the smile 
soured. Then I embarked in the electric line, 
and went out into the highways and byways to 
introduce lightning-rods.” 

“ Well, I found no fault with that.’* 

No ; but I did.” 

“ Why didn’t you stick to it ^ ” 

Because, Nancy — Have a little taffy ? ” He 
proffered a box of sweetmeats this time. 

“ No : don’t bother me any more.” 

She took a pillow-case from her basket, and shook 
it out with a snap that sent a miniature shower 
over Simon’s new suit. 

The fact is, lightning-rods don’t agree with me. 
I started out in high hopes, one bright morning, 
espied an unprotected dwelling, rushed boldly up, 
rung the bell, notwithstanding a gigantic mastiff 
lay at my feet, evidently occupied in catching flies. 
Gent came to the door. In glowing speech I 
introduced my business. He rubbed his chin, said, 
* I don’t know,’ and looked at the dog. I found he 
did know, when he further remarked with empha- 
sis, ‘Rover, here’s another rod-man.’ The dog 
gave a growl, and rose. An electric shock was 
communicated to my being, and I calculated in one 


A JACK AT ALL TRADES. 


51 


brief minute how many rods I should have to 
clear, before reaching my rods outside. Then I 
left, closely attended by the dog. I didn’t own 
these clothes then ; if I had, my loss would have 
been greater, especially in that part of my ward- 
robe which the artist designated as tout ensemble, 
I gave up that business in disgust.” 

Well, what next } ” said Nancy, flapping 
another shining white flag before Simon’s face. 
She was a little curious to know the whole extent 
and variety of Simon’s operations, but none the 
less anxious to have her washing out ; and she flew 
from basket to line, and back again. Simon, fol- 
lowing her with his eyes, continued his recital. 

“ Then I sought the confectioner’s emporium. 
Said I, ‘ Here’s a sweet occupation ; and a candid 
young man can win more lasses’ favor ih this line 
than in any other.’ Nancy, you would adore me, 
could you see me in a white apron, pulling molasses 
candy over a hook, with a long pull, and a strong 
pull, and a pull all together.” 

Nancy placed her hands upon her hips, and 
looked sternly at the confectioner. “ Simon Stone, 
you are a fool” 

Nancy, I know it, or I should not be running 


52 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


after you when I’ve been snubbed time and time 
again.’^ 

The poor fellow’s lips quivered, and there was a 
faint sign of moisture in his eyes. 

“ Do you mean to stick to this busihess, Simon ? ” 

Simon brightened : there was a tinge of compas- 
sion in the tones. 

"‘To be sure I do ; and it’s awful sticky business, 
especially sitting down into a pan of hot candy set 
to cool, when you are not particularly tired. Nan- 
cy, dear Nancy, look upon me with favor this time. 
I’m on the road to the little two-storied house, 
with its front and back garden, that you covet.” 

Again his hand went into his pocket, and 
brought forth a box. 

“Accept this slight but sweet offering -of affec- 
tion, — real French candy, made it myself.” 

Nancy took the box : she was relenting. 

“Simon, if I thought I could trust you” -r- 

“You can, Nancy, you can.” 

“ Well, Simon, I must confess I rather like that 
business.” 

“Do you, Nancy?” Simon clasped his hands. 
“ Eurekey, I’ve found it at last. Try a chocolate- 
drop. You make me so happy! It’s just the 


A JACK AT ALL TRADES. 


53 


nicest business you ever looked upon, — rows and 
rows of shelves filled with all that’s sweet to the 
tooth, and profitable to the dentist. And then the 
girls, Nancy, — you should see the girls.” 

“ The what ? ” 

“ Girls. Pretty girls that tend behind the coun- 
ters, dealing out sugar-plums and — and lozenges 
and kisses, with eyes full of fun and mouths full of 
candy. Oh, it’s just glorious ! Ha, ha, ha ! ” 

“ Simon,” said Nancy sternly. 

Simon’s laugh was hushed. “ Well, Nancy ” 
Do you ever look at the girls ? ” 

“To be sure I do,” he answered with affected 
gayety. “ I’ve often received a kiss from them.” 

“ Simon ! ” 

“ Sugar ones, Nancy. Nothing more.” 

“Very well, Simon, very well. I’m perfectly 
satisfied.” 

“ O Nancy, then you will ” — 

“ Have nothing more to say to a man who asso- 
ciates with sugar-plums and lozengers, and pretty 
girls with eyes full of candy, and mouths full of 
kisses. Good-morning, Mr. Stone.” 

She was furious : her eyes enlarged, and her 
plump form shook with anger. She raised her 
basket, and turned her back upon him. 


54 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“ Where are you going, Nancy ? ” said Simon 
sadly. 

“ Back to my washing. The business won’t 
suit.” 

“ What ! ” shouted Simon, growing red in the 
face. “ Are you going to snub me again ? Hang 
it, Nancy Nipper ! I’ll not be treated in this shab- 
by manner ! Take me now, or you lose me forever. 
It’s the last time of asking.” 

“ I’m glad of that,” said Nancy coolly. ’Twill 
save me much trouble.” 

*‘Then give me back my French mixture. 
There’s nothing shabby about me ; but, if I can’t 
have your affections, you sha’n’t have my confec- 
tionery.” 

Nancy flung the box’ at him with a spiteful, 
‘‘There!” 

Simon picked up the sweetmeats. 

“ Good-day, Miss Nipper. You’ve nipped my 
prospects of having your sweet self ; but I’ve got 
a sweet thing left in the sugar and molasses line, 
and I don’t mean to give it up.” 

“ Go back to your sweet things, your pretty 
waiter-girls. Go, sir,” said Nancy scornfully. 

“I will, you cruel, heartless, scrubby thing! 


A JACK AT ALL TRADES. 


55 


and if ever I face you again with an offer of my 
heart ” — 

Be sure to come on Monday ; for then I always 
have plenty of hot water.” 

“ Bah ! I hope you’ll live and die an old maid, 
Miss Nipper.” 

And with this parting compliment Simon flung 
himself out of the gate and into the road, tearing 
along at a terrible pace. 

Good riddance, Simon,” Nancy said spitefully ; 
then added as she turned towards the house, 
‘‘ Wonder in what new freak of business he’ll 
appear next.” > 


5 ^ 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Cfjapter 


COMRADES. 



51 ARCUS had been gone nearly an hour. 
Bess on his departure had repaired to an 
upper chamber, to wave her handkerchief 
to. him as he disappeared down the road, and to be 
the first to salute him with the same snowy, signal 
on his return. She watched for half a hour, then 
sunk back in her chair, and fell asleep. 

May sat at her work down stairs, very quiej; and 
happy. Her hands were never idle, her thoughts 
were ever busy. Out of the old laborious life, she 
had brought the earnest spirit that made poverty 
less terribleT to bear. There, amid hardships and 
perplexities, it had moved her to labor hard and 
long, for mere existence. Here with every com- 
fort about her, with every wish gratified as soon 
as expressed, that same spirit helped her to what 
few attain from better and higher conditions of 


COMRADES.- 


57 


life, — enjoyment. She stepped into her new life 
as though she had been born to it. It had been 
no happy dreanty these six months of wedded 
bliss ; but the realization of the dreaming over her 
needle, far back, when her ambitious spirit had 
longed for such an existence, and, through its long- 
ing, cultivated her taste, and fitted her to shine in 
any station fate might have in store for her. Her 
solitary moments were full of happiness in tracing 
back the lines that had fallen in pleasant places, 
or in planning new paths through the wonder-land 
that stretched before her. She was quietly happy, 
this earnest little woman. No wonder, for as yet 
no cloud had drifted into the silvery gleam of her 
honeymoon. She started from her dreaming when 
Nancy with her characteristic “ puff ” stood before 
her. 

^*Ah, Nancy, you’ve had a visitor! Nice-look- 
ing, clever young man, I should say, from the 
glimpse I had of him.” 

“Clever! he’s too clever,” said Nancy, with a 
toss of her head. “ He thinks he knows a great 
deal ; but I think he knows more by this time. 
They’r-e all clever enough to come offering their 
affection. Cheap stuff! Till he can offer some- 


S8 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


thing more substantial, he’ll find I’m clever enough 
to keep single. Good gracious ! Here’s a tramp ! ” 

Yes, there he was, leaning against the door-post, 
dirty, ragged, sleepy-eyed, soggy, drunk. 

May sprang to her feet, alarmed. Nancy backed 
against the mantle, and looked. The beast at the 
door attempted a bow, but, remembering the diffi- 
culty he had to gain his leaning f>osition, refrained, 
and wagged his hand instead, with a silly smile on 
his face. 

“’Sense me {Jiic). Somesin’ to eat — four days 
since I tasted noth — hie — in’. Somesin’ for a brave 
sol — hie — dier who flought and fed for his country 
{hie). Tha’s me.” 

“ Go away ! Clear out ! sh ” — cried Nancy, 
shaking her skirts at him as if he were a refractory 
fowl. “ Nothing for you, you beast ! ” 

The tramp eyed her curiously. 

“’Sense me {hi(^. Here’s gratitude! Where’s 
your pat — hie — rism } Us brave fel — hie — lers, — ■ 
tha’s me. I’m one on ’em. Fit and fled {hie), and 
won the gl — hie — ory. Look at your waving {hie) 
cornfields ; we shaved ’em. Your princely pal — 
hie — aces ; we protected ’em. And now you {hi<^ 
sh! and would give us noble de — hie — fenders of 


COMRADES. 


59 


the soil noffin’ {Jiic) to keep the door from the {hie) 
wolf.’^ 

^ He staggered across the room towards May, and 
sunk into a chair. 

“ ’Sgraceful ; 'scuse me ; 'sgraceful. {Hie) No 
offence ; but it’s ’sgraceful.” 

“You. ugly bear!” said Nancy. “Leave this 
house quick, or I’ll scald you.” 

The tramp straightened his ragged figure, and 
looked at her sleepily. 

“ ’Sense me {hie) young woman. I’m ’dressing 
con — hie — ’sation to your superior of — hie-^- 
cer ” — 

“Silence, sir!” cried May in anger. “You -are 
intruding here. If you want something to eat, 
follow Nancy, and she will provide for you.” 

“ If I do, I hope ’twill choke him.” 

The tramp looked at the pert little figure that 
spoke so energetically, and laughed a silly drunken 
laugh. 

“ Oh ! that’s Nan — hie — cy, is it .? Nan — hie — ■ 
cy, my regards. I salute you. Nan — hie— cy\ I’m 
a poor old soldier, deserted by his {hie) country; 
but I’ve an eye for beauty {hie). Sorry you haven’t 
any, Nan — hie — cy.” 


6o 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“ Nancy/’ said May, '' speak to your master.” 

“That I will, quick,” and she started towards 
the door ; but the tramp staggered to his feet, and • 
seized her arm. 

“ Don’t trouble yourself, Nancy. I’m unfor — hie 
— ’nate, but I’m {hie) polite. Stay where you are. 
This company’s good ’nuff {hie) for me.” 

Nancy spitefully struck off the hand that detained 
her, and the tramp sunk back to his seat with a 
laugh. 

“'Scuse me. I’m a patriot. {Hie^ This is 
what a man gets for servin’ his country. {Hie) 
When the battle’s over, turn him adrift. {Hie) 
Why didn’t they make me Pres — hie — ident, as 
well as that other fellow ? I fit and fed {hie), and 
he fit and run {hie) for President. ’Sgraceful 
shame! {Hie) ’Scuse me.” And he settled 
himself comfortably, as if to take a nap. May was 
on the point of running in search of her husband, 
when in walked Marcus Graves, riding-whip in 
hand. 

“ Ah, here’s somebody’ll make you start,” cried 
Nancy triumphantly. 

“ O Marcus ! Mr. Graves 1 ” faltered May. 

“ Halloo I Who’s this ? Ah, the tramp. — Here, 
fellow, you start.” 


COMRADES. 


6i 


The intruder turned, and looked at him. 

“ ’Sense me {Jiic ) : are you anybody in par — hie 
— ticular ? ” 

“Leave this room at once,” returned Marcus. 
“ Do you hear } ” 

“ ’Sense me. I’m com — hie — fortable. Make 
yourself at home.” 

Marcus brought his whip down across the tramp’s 
shoulders smartly. 

“ Scoundrel ! begone, I say ! ” 

He rose to his feet quick enough then : his eyes 
blazed, and he glared at Marcus. At that mo- 
ment Roy entered the room. 

“You struck me, you did!” He clutched his 
hands. “ I don’t keep no account. Let that settle 
it.” He rushed at Marcus, but Roy was beside 
him, seized him by the collar of his ragged blouse, 
and flung him on the floor. 

“ Lie there, you scamp I ” 

No, he was on his feet in an instant. 

“ Ha, surrounded ! Then I’ll die game (hie), I 
will.” 

He rushed upon Roy in fury. Roy, cool but 
determined, flung himself upon the tramp ; their 
hands were at each other’s throats, and then they 


62 SOMETHING BETTER.’ 

looked into^each other’s faces. They start; hands 
drop from throats, and meet in a warm clasp. 

‘‘Matt Winsor,” Roy speaks. 

“ Here {Jiic), hold on a minute ! Yes, it is Roy 
— Roy Manning, as I’m a sinner.” 

“ My old comrade Matt ! ” and Roy’s face glows 
with the warmth of welcome. “ Matt, Heaven bless 
you ! it is, it is ! ” There’s true friendship in the 
earnest shake of the hands, in the moisture that 
dims the eyes of two old soldiers of the Republic. 
May looks on in surprise. Who is this man that 
■Roy so warmly greets ? Her eye wanders to the 
sabre above the mantle, and a dim unwelcome sug- 
gestion creeps into her thoughts. 

“Yes, it is him,” said the tramp. “Glory (/lic), 
old boy ! we’ve marched together, slept together, 
fought together : now let’s take {/itc) a drink to- 
gether.” 

“ Not now, Matt,” returned Roy. “ You seem 
to have had a little too much already.” 

He glanced at his wife : she stood beside the 
table, trembling with agitation. 

“ May, this is my old comrade of the war ; you 
remember,” and he pointed significantly to the 
sabre. 


COMRADES. 


63 


May knew she was expected to step forward, and 
greet the intruder, felt it to be her duty : he was 
her husband’s friend. But she moved not a step : 
a slight inclination of. the head was all the sign she 
gave of having heard his words. But Matt Winsor 
staggered towards her. 

“ Roy’s wife : that’s queer, — his wife.” 

He extended his hand familiarly ; but, drunk as 
he was, he felt the coldness with which she turned 
away. 

“ ’Sense me, ma’am : we were sweet-hearts in the 
camp {hie). You’re his sweet — hie — heart now ; but 
you can’t love Roy any better than I did in those 
{hie) gay old days {hie). And now an ungrateful 
{hie) Republic turns her noble ’fenders out to 
starve.” 

Not so bad as that. Matt. I’ve enough and to 
spare. Come with me.” Roy locked his arm in 
that of his friend. 

“ Hold on a minute, Roy. Who’s the chap 
with the whip } ” 

He pointed to the figure of Marcus Graves, lean- 
ing carelessly against the mantle. 

“ That’s Mr. Marcus Graves, Matt. You shall 
know him by and by.” 


64 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Roy, realizing that the condition of his old com- 
rade was not suited to the drawing-room, was anx- 
ious to lead him away. But Matt in liquor was 
obstinate, and stood glaring savagely at Marcus. 

“’Scuse me, what do you say his name is ? Oh, 
Mr. Tombs ! Yes, yes : weVe met before.” 

“Yes,” said Marcus carelessly. “Once before 
to-day, when I tossed you a dollar ; sorry you made 
such bad use of it.” 

“ So am I,” replied Matt fiercely. “ I wish I 
had turned, and flung it in your face.” 

“ Sir,” cried Marcus, stepping towards him an- 
grily. Roy stepped between them. 

“ Matt,” he said, “ be careful : you are in my 
house. Remember he is my guest.” 

“ He struck me, Roy, — me, an old soldier of the 
Republic. 'Sgraceful ! Fm going to pay off that 
score. • We met once — before this day.” 

“ I never saw your face before,” said Marcus. 

“Indeed,” sneered Matt. ''{Hie) My face is 
one to be remembered.” 

“ That’s so,” said Nancy. “ It has no beauty to 
speak of.” Then to herself, “ Paid off that score.” 

“Yes, once before,” said Matt, — “in the prison- 
• ers’ dock, — I as a vagrant, you as a defaulter.” 


COMRADES. 


65 


There was a moment’s silence. 

A defaulter ! Matt } ” asked Roy. 

May trembled violently. 

But Bess indignantly exclaimed, “ ’Tis false ! the 
wretch lies.” 

“ Matt,” cried Roy sternly, “ recall those words. 
You are crazy.” 

Am I ? ” said Matt. What says Mr. Graves } ” 

All eyes were turned upon Marcus. 

“ What says he } ” cried Roy. That it is false.” 

But Marcus Graves said coolly, — 

** Unfortunately it is true.” 

And, though he said it coolly, Roy, whose eyes 
were upon him, saw his face pale, and his hand 
tremble, and knew he spoke the truth. 

An instant’s painful silence. Bess flung herself 
into May’s arms. May with difficulty controlled 
an inclination to shriek, such a shock had the 
admission given her. Only an instant, and Roy 
faced Marcus sternly. 

And you dare enter my house, — you, a felon ^ ” 

Matt staggered to a chair. 

’Sgraceful (/izc), ’mong respectable people (/izc) 
like me.” 

Hold, Mr. Manning,” said Marcus : ^‘hear before 


66 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


you condemn. I am innocent of crime. Three 
years ago I was employed in a house in Chicago 
as bookkeeper. A large sum of money was found 
missing, and I alone had access to it. I was 
arrested, and placed in the prisoners’ dock. No 
proofs could be found to convict me, so I was 
discharged. I was innocent. The cunning rogue 
had so covered his tracks that the real culprit could 
not be detected. I was requested to resign my 
situation, which I did.” 

** And you took no steps to make your innocence 
clear ” said Roy sternly. 

Unfortunately, no. I knew I was innocent, and 
anxious to keep the matter from my father.” He 
paused a moment. “ My father, Mrs. Manning,” he 
continued with a blush, “ is Hon. Lucius Graves of 
Wisconsin. He was an invalid at that time ; and, 
fearing the shock might prostrate him, I managed 
to keep him in ignorance of the proceedings 
against me, and came East, hoping that in time my 
innocence would be admitted, and I should be re- 
called.” 

“ And your father .? ” said Roy coldly. 

“ Believes I am still in Chicago.” 

Roy stood amazed at the coolness of this man. 


COMRADES. 


67 


who by his own admission was a suspected thief. 
Either this calm demeanor came from a conscious- 
ness of innocence, or it was the disguise of a con- 
summate villain. He hardly knew how to view it. 
He would be charitable, but he must be just. 

“And without a word of explanation, with this 
stigma upon your character, you have won the 
affections of a member of my household? Mr. 
Graves, I am a just man. When you can clearly 
prove your innocence, you will be welcome : until 
then, my doors are no longer open to you.” There 
was no anger in his tone, but strong expressed de- 
terrriination ; and Marcus, knowing the man, felt 
there was no power within him to alter these hard 
conditions. 

“ O Roy ! ” cried May. She could say no more, 
for her husband’s hand was raised in warning. 

“ He’s innocent. I know he is innocent ! ” ex- 
claimed Bess. 

“ Let, him be proved so, and no one will give him 
a warmer greeting,” said Roy, looking compassion- 
ately at the pretty face bedewed with tears, resting 
upon his wife’s bosom. “ But when a man’s charac- 
ter is attacked, to turn his back upon the enemy, 
and fly without striking one blow for his reputa- 


68 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


tion, is a mark of cowardice which no soldier can 
pardon.’* 

He looked at Marcus sternly as he spoke, then 
turned away. 

“ I understand you, sir,” said Marcus ; and, bitter 
as are your words, I thank you for them. You* 
have shown me my duty.” 

He crossed the room to where Bess was stand- 
ing. He took her hand, and pressed it to his lips ; 
with a cry she flung herself into his arms. 

O Marcus, this is cruel ! ” 

“Be of good heart, darling: I will return to claim 
you. You say I am innocent: you are right. But 
I will not appear until I can fully prove it.” He 
laid her gently in May’s arms, and turned away. 

“ Marcus.” It was May who spoke : it was her 
hand stretched out to him. He grasped it. “I 
believe you innocent : I will guard her until you 
return.” 

“ Thanks,” he murmured, pressing her hand to 
his lips. One look at Bess, a polite bow to Roy, 
and he was gone. 

“ O May, May ! this is wicked, cruel ! ” cried 
Bess as his footsteps died away. 

“ Cheer up, cheer up, my darling : all will yet be 
well.” 


COMRADES. 


69 


All this time Matt Winsor had been stupidly- 
sprawling in a chair, listening with a half-b.oozy 
consciousness that he had somehow been concerned 
in a mean action. As silence fell upon the group, 
he roused himself. 

“ Bless my soul ! I’ve done it, sure {Jiic) ’nuff.” 
He rose to his feet. Good-by, Roy,” extending a 

hand which the other grasped warmly. Ole fellow, 

* 

glad you are prospering, though an ungrateful 
country did turn me adrift. Good-by : I guess I’ll 
be moving.” 

“ No, Matt,” said Roy, you wander no more. 
Do you remember our compact at Antietam — 
whatever fortune the future had in store for us 
should be shared together.” 

‘‘ Yes,” cried Matt with a laugh. “ I’ll stick to it, 
Roy. I’ll share mine with you, the spoils of the 
tramp, — crusts {Iiic)^ kicks, and all.” 

*H’ll share something better with you, — a com- 
fortable home, friendship, a far better life for you, 
old wanderer ! ” 

“ His home here, this ragged outcast ! ” May 
could scarcely believe her ears. “No, no, that 
must not be.” 

The tramp looked at his friend incredulously. 


70 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


** Roy, old comrade, you are jesting. I should dis- 
grace you.” 

“ Then out of my disgrace shall a man be born 
again. As we fought together for the old flag, 
we’ll fight again. I see a victory to be won, a 
loyal heart to be reclaimed from the clutches of the 
enemy. I will lead, old comrade : will you follow ? 

Matt Winsor hesitated. He looked about the 
room, at Roy’s . wife standing coldly by ; and a 
refusal was on his lips. But, when he turned to 
give it utterance, he met the face that had been so 
dear to him in the old days, saw in the eyes before 
him the same warm light of friendship that had 
cheered the war-path and the camp ; and he fal- 
tered. The hand that had clasped his on many a 
battle-field was stretched towards him, and he was 
conquered. 

*‘To victory or death, Roy, hand in hand.’* 

“ Royal, are you mad ? ” cried May. This wretch 
in our happy home ! Why, why is this ? ” 

Royal Manning looked proudly at his wife. 

“ Your counsel. May. Comrades in adversity 
should be comrades in prosperity.” 


BLASTED HOPES. 


71 


Cljapter &ix. 


BLASTED HOPES. 



LTHOUGH Simon Stone had parted from 
Nancy in anger, he was none the less de- 
termined to win her. While his last ex- 
pressed hope had been that she would die an old 
maid, he was none the less anxious to save her from 
that luckless fate, supposed to be dreaded by all of 
womankind. Many times he had passed through 
that furious ordeal, and, on each occasion, found 
that his vials of wrath had poured oil on the fire of 
love in his bosom, to make it flame with increasing 
heat. 

If there was one fixed principle in his roving 
disposition, it was his love for Nancy. He was 
neither handsome nor gallant ; hardly the figure 
for the hero of a love romance ; but he was smart, 
versatile, shrewd, and withal honest. 

What little he knew of wooing had been bor- 



72 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


rowed in language and manner from the heroes of 
cheap romances ; hence it was bombastic and ludi- 
crous, and not a fit expression of the man’s feelings. 
Nancy was both his strength and his weakness. 
Her affections once his, he could make his mark in 
any line of business he would stick to; but, her 
inclination not having settled upon any particular 
road to fortune on which he was to travel, he was 
continually wandering in search of some line of 
trade she might fancy. People said he was smart, 
but wanted a balance-wheel. True, and the bal- 
ance-wheel was Nancy. 

He might have been found, on the evening of the 
day on which his addresses and confectionery had 
been rejected, twenty miles away from the scene of 
his defeat, in his chamber on the third floor of 
Mrs. Harden’s boarding-house, situated in a re- 
spectable part of New -York City. The “artist” 
coat was thrown upon the floor in an expressionless 
heap; and Simon, bundled in a “Sleepy Hollow,” 
with his feet at either extremity of a table, was 
mournfully gazing at the cargo of sweets that had 
been discharged from his pockets, an endless vari- 
ety. Had any one a doubt of his regard for 
Nancy, it would have been dissipated by a glance 


BLASTED HOPES. 


73 


about the room. There was a sporting print 
above the mantle, of the swift mare “ Flora Tem- 
ple,” with the name removed from it, and that of 
“Nancy” substituted; a statuette of a sylph-like 
form in short skirts, and right toe pointed in a line 
with the waist, with “ Nancy ” marked upon its 
pedestal, stood upon the bureau; and a delicate- 
winged Cupid, swinging by an elastic cord over the 
head of the bed, carried a miniature banner on 
which was inscribed “Nancy;” while various pho- 
tographs of Nancy in vignette and full length 
were conspicuously displayed about the room : so 
that Simon always had the object of his adoration 
before his eyes, not only in facsimiley but also in 
fanciful imagery hardly appropriate to her style of 
beauty, but none the less pleasing to his eyes. 

Here Marcus Graves found him, when, in answer 
to his knock, a mournful “ Come in ” invited him to 
enter. 

Simon sprang to his feet, after having removed 
those useful means of locomotion from the table 
to the floor, and came towards his friend with hand 
extended, and radiant face. 

“ Marc, old boy, welcome ! it’s long since your 
handsome face illuminated my humble abode. ” 


74 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


You’re right, Si. I am ashamed of myself for 
having neglected you so long ; and, to tell the truth, 
it’s only trouble that brings me here now.” 

Simon’s face lengthened. 

Oh ! you’ve heard of it, have you ? Well, I sup- 
pose it’s hard for a woman to keep her tongue after 
she’s been so smart as to reject a lover. But don’t 
call it trouble : it’s all right. If I can’t win her in 
one way, I can in another. I’ll run the scale of 
all the trades and professions known to the Western 
world, but what I’ll have her.” 

'Marcus looked surprised during this outburst, 
which in Simon’s usual style was characterized by 
rapid utterance and energetic gesticulation. 

What are you talking about. Si } ” 

About Nancy, of course.” 

“ Nancy } Has she rejected you .?” 

For the fifth time, Marc : didn’t you know it? 
Isn’t that the trouble that brings you here ? ” 

Not exactly. Si. I’m in trouble myself, and 
come to you, as usual, for advice. But I am really 
sorry for your misfortune.” 

'‘No matter about that. Let me hear your 
story.” 

“ That old story of the defalcation has -been told 


BLASTED HOPES. 


75 


in the house of Royal Manning, and I am forbid- 
den to enter its doors until my innocence is estab- 
lished ; ” and Marcus sank despondently into a 
chair. 

“ Told by whom } ” 

“An old comrade of Manning’s, a miserable 
tramp who met me in the dock when I was ar- 
raigned.” 

“You should have told it yourself, Marc.” 

“ Don’t I know that } ” said Marcus angrily. “ I 
was a fool. Had I spoken, there might have been 
doubts, but there would also have been sympathy. 
And now to have it blurted out by a drunken scamp 
claiming fellowship with me in a prisoners’ dock : 
Bah ! It’s a double disgrace.” And he hid his 
face in his hands. 

“ What are you going to do about it, Marc } ” 
said Simon, laying his hand upon Marcus’s shoul- 
der. 

“ I’m going to clear my name, or never show my 
face there again. I’m going to Chicago.” 

“ What will you do when you get there ? ” 

“ I hardly know. ’Tis three years since the rob- 
bery ; and, if any clew to the perpetrator had been 
discovered, I think I should have been notified. 


76 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


After my blunder at Manning’s, I was determined 
no one should get the better of me with Dasher, 
Dean, & Co., the house for which I travel : so I 
went to Mr. Dasher this afternoon, told the whole 
story, and resigned my situation. He would not 
accept it, but generously offered me both time and 
money to prosecute my search. My route is to be 
exchanged for a Western one during three months, 
with headquarters at Chicago ; and in a week I’m 
off. I’ve no fixed plan of operations; and if there’s 
an idea in that inventive skull of yours worth any 
thing to me, now’s your time.” 

“ An idea ! I’ve something better than that, 
Marc,” said Simon, after a moment’s thought. 
“ What say you to a detective ^ ” 

“ I shall employ one as soon as I arrive in 
Chicago.” 

“ Chicago, nonsense ! take him with you. I’ve 
the very man in my eye, who’ll go to the bottom of 
this matter in a professional style that will amaze 
you.” 

“ Who is he ? ” 

Gooch is his name. He lives here. He’s the 
hero of the Lamkin affair.” 

“ The Lamkin affair ? was it a murder } ” 


BLASTED HOPES. 


77 


No, it occurred in this very house. Two years 
ago there was a lively ringing of bells throughout 
the house one morning. Many of the boarders on 
rising found their watches and other valuables 
missing. Gooch lost his silver time-piece. I lost 
my gold Waltham. There Jiad been a robbery. 
But how } The front-door was found locked ; the 
back-door ditto; every window fastened save one 
in the back-parlor : that was wide open. A de- 
tective was sent for. He looked over the house, 
looked out of the window, shook his head, told 
Mrs. Harden she must offer a reward, and started 
off. Then Gooch got mad ; he swore he’d not give 
one impeded nickel to find the thief, and stuck his 
head out of the window. There was snow upon 
the ground : it had fallen the day before. ^ Look 
here,’ he said : ‘ that robbery was done by some- 
body in the house ; there’s not a track.’ Then he 
took in his head, and looked round. There was a 
spot on the carpet near the window, — a dark, 
greasy spot about the size of a saucer. Gooch got 
down on his knees, and smelt it, said it was kero- 
sene, and fresh. So far, so good. 

“‘Mrs. Harden, who uses kerosene in this 
house ’ 


78 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“ ‘ The attic lodgers/ was Mrs. Harden’s reply. 

“ * All right/ said Gooch : ‘ follow me.’ 

“She did, to the top of the house. This floor 
was an addition to the original house, and the pipes 
had not been carried up ; consequently the lodgers 
were provided with kerosene-lamps. 

“ Gooch, rushing into one room after another, 
pulled off the bedclothes, and applied his nose to 
the sheets at the foot of the bed. Three rooms 
were visited in this manner without success. In 
the fourth, after the usual nose interview, he 
shouted, — 

“ ‘ Here he is : the thief is young Lamkin ! ’ 

“ Sure enough, he was right. A trap was laid 
for Lamkin : he was caught, and confessed the rob- 
bery. After going about the house, and securing 
his plunder, he went to the back-parlor, and threw 
up the window to divert suspicion from the house. 
He must have spilled the kerosene, and, in moving 
about in his stockings, stepped in it. He then 
went back to bed, and of course communicated the 
strong odor to the sheets. Gooch was awfully 
stuck up with his success ; set up as an independ- 
ent detective at once, and got lots of business. He 
got something else too, for he was christened 


BLASTED HOPES. 


79 


‘ Nosey ’ at once ; and ‘ Nosey Gooch* has been his 
appellation ever since.” 

“ And you think this man could help me ? ” said 
Marcus. 

“Not a doubt of it. He’s keen and close: just 
let him get the scent, and he’ll run the game to the 
grourid. ril have him up.” 

Simon took a cane from a comer, and gave two 
distinct raps on the floor. It was answered from 
the room beneath by two distinct raps upon the 
ceiling. 

“ He’s at home,” said Simon. “ He’ll be up in 
a minute. Look at him close ; such an eye, and 
such a nose too ! ” 

While he spoke, the door opened softly, a figure 
glided in, the door was closed without a sound ; 
and against it, with his finger on his lips, silent, 
watchful, mysterious, leaned “Nosey Gooch” the 
detective. 

“Such an eye!” Marcus wondered which of 
Nosey’s orbs Simon referred to ; for one of them 
was large and staring, with no particular shrewd- 
ness in it. The other was swollen, with black, pur- 
ple, and blue hues prominently mingled on its 
surface, and looked very much as though the wily 


So 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


detective had received a black eye in some recent 
melee. He was short and fat ; had a head with a 
broad bald path travelling over it, on either side of 
which were twisted peaks of black hair standing 
like horns : a thin face, black moustache and a 
goatee, with a large, long, and very red nose, gave 
him the appearance of a caricature of Mephistoph- 
eles. But the nose stood out prominently, the 
sign-manual of his success. 

There was no mistaking its power of scent ; and 
its rich port-wine hue gave evidence that its spir- 
ituous researches had not always been confined to 
kerosene. 

“All right, Gooch. My friend Mr. Marcus 
Graves.” 

“ Nosey ” glided across the room, and stretched 
out his hand to Marcus. 

“ Glad to meet you, sir, — very glad. Any friend 
of Simon’s is my friend at once.” 

He shook Marcus’s hand very cordially, and 
smiled. Such a smile ! Marcus hoped he wouldn’t 
do it again ; for horns, eyes, and mouth all worked 
towards the nose, which looked like a light-house 
amid the breakers. 

“Yes,” he continued very I6ud and hearty. 


BLASTED HOPES. 


8i 


Simon and I are old friends ; and, as you’ve 
dropped in, he’s called me up to entertain you. 
Eh, Simon ^ ” 

He plunged into the Sleepy Hollow ; ” and, 
without giving Simon time to reply, continued, 
** Now, there’s the Lamkin affair.” 

“ I’ve told him that, Gooch, because he wants 
your aid; and I couldn’t recommend you better 
than by telling that story. He wants to talk busi- 
ness.” 

At the word business, ** Nosey ” was on his feet, 
his finger on his nose, and a subdued “ sh ” on his 
lips. Then he went to the windows, and, although 
the night was warm, closed them, and pulled down 
the shades ; then on tiptoe across the room to the 
bed, stooped, and looked under it ; he then made 
his way to the door in the same mysterious man- 
ner, opened it, and looked into the passage, then 
closed it, locking the door ; took out the key, took 
a wad of cotton from his pocket, and plugged the 
keyhole ; then he tiptoed back to the table, sat 
down in the seat he had vacated, took out a memo- 
randum-book and pencil, looked at Marcus, and 

muttered, Professional caution.” 

* 

** Now,” said he, to business. State your case.” 


82 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Marcus told his story, detailing the particulars of 
his engagement with the house of Claggett, Bruce, 
& Co., of Chicago, the loss of the money, his arrest, 
arraignment, release, and retirement from his posi- 
tion ; all of which “Nosey” jotted down in his 
memorandum-book. When he had concluded, 
“ Nosey ” spoke : — 

“Hem! three years ago, — bad, — very bad. I 
like a fresh scent to start with. Did you gamble 
while there } ” 

“ No.” 

“ Keep fast horses ? ” 

“ No : I lived in modest lodgings, had few ac- 
quaintances, and kept no bad company,” 

“ I see ; but somebody else did, and you have 
had to pay the fiddler. No matter : we’ll get at 
the mystery, never fear. When do you leave for 
Chicago ” 

“ In a week.” 

“And you put this case into my hands unre- 
servedly ? ” 

Marcus looked at Simon before he answered. 
He was looking admiringly at the detective ; but 
he caught Marcus’s ‘glance, and made energetic 
motion of acquiescence. 


BLASTED HOPES. 


83 


“ On what terms, Mr. Gooch } ” 

'‘You shall pay me fifty dollars a week for the 
time employed in working up the case, provided I 
am successful. If I fail, nothing.” 

“Nothing ! ” said Marcus, surprised. 

“ Not a cent. As in the Lamkin affair, I go 
into every detective enterprise because I love the 
excitement of chase, the keen pleasure of travelling 
and tracking. If I win, ‘ the laborer is worthy of 
his hire ; ’ if I fail, I have no right to take what I 
have not honestly earned. No, sir, no ! ” 

Mr. Gooch struck the table emphatically, and 
tried to look magnanimous ; but, his features not 
being moulded for so fine an expression, he looked 
hideous. 

“ Of course,” he continued, “ there are the ex- 
penses of travel, board, and investigation, to be 
met by the party employing me.” 

“ I understand,” said Marcus, “ and am willing to 
defray all expenses, and pay handsomely for suc- 
cess.” 

“ Then it is a bargain,” said Gooch ; “ and you 
place the case in my hands unreservedly ? ” 

“ Unreservedly,” replied Marcus. 

Mr. Gooch bowed, rose from his chair, opened 


84 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


the window, took the plug from the keyhole, and 
then offered Marcus his hand. 

*‘No more need be said. Let me know when 
you go, and how, when you are ready. In the 
mean time I will give the case careful study. 
Good-night ; ” and he tiptoed out of the room. 

A queer customer,” said Marcus, when he was 
out of hearing. You’re quite sure. Si, he knows 
his business ? ” 

Sure ? I’d bet my bottom dollar on him,” re- 
plied Simon. “ He’s a regular born genius, Nosey 
is. He’ll put you through, never fear.” 

Marcus had his doubts. 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


8S 


Cljapter 

THE NEW BIRTH. 

ATT WINSOR awoke from his drunken 
slumber, the morning following his warm 
reception by his old comrade, to find him- 
self in strange quarters. Sandy McClosky’s liquor 
must have been a strong compound ; for, after 
supplying him with a bountiful repast, Roy found 
him so dazed and drowsy that he put him to bed 
immediately, and he slept through the afternoon 
and night. The sun was well up when he opened 
his eyes, and looked about him wildly. 

The outcast whose nights had been spent in the 
open fields, in barns, stables, and sometimes jails, 
might well look startled ; for Roy, either from im- 
pulse or deep design, had deposited him in the guest- 
chamber, where Mrs. Manning’s charming taste 
had achieved its crowning triumph in arrangement 
and adornment. The sun’s eastern beams were 




86 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


struggling through the half-closed shutters of a 
broad bay window at the foot of the bed, tinging 
with yellow hue the soft muslin curtain neatly 
draped and prettily caught up with its fastening of 
blue. The carpet of soft and yielding texture was 
a mass of roses thickly scattered on a groundwork 
of blue. The furniture of black walnut was or- 
nately though not heavily carved. In the alcove a 
wide inviting easy-chair was adorned with a speci- 
men of Mrs. Manning's “ tidy ” handiwork ; and a 
lounge near it displayed the same happy results of 
her busy needle. A dressing-case with long and 
complicated mirrors for photographing the whole 
figure at one instantaneous view stood opposite the 
bed. Niches here and there were adorned with 
marble figures, or rare vases, in the latter of which 
artificial flowers of nicest workmanship fairly 
rivalled nature’s choicest productions in all save 
perfume. 

An ample mirror stretched across the marble 
mantle displayed to the eyes of the wondering 
tramp a bed of snowy whiteness, marred but by 
one disfiguring spot, a wild and haggard face repos- 
ing on its pillows. This spoiled the picture. The" 
boudoir of “ Beauty,” its occupant the “ Beast.” 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


87 


It was some time before Matt’s befogged brain 
comprehended the situation in which he found him- 
self ; but, when he did, he sprung from the bed with 
a determination to skulk away from his awkward 
plight in one of the unceremonious ways with which 
tramps are familiar. He would drop from the win- 
dow, and disappear before Roy should learn of his 
awaking. He could not be very far from the ground ; 
and, if he broke his neck in the descent, what mat- 
ter.^ tramps are no great loss to society. Roy would 
only have the expense of his burial, and be thank- 
ful to be rid of him at so trifling a cost. 

So he reasoned, or rather rambled in his thoughts, 
as he reached about for his familiar outfit. It had 
disappeared ; and on a chair ready to his hand were 
laid clean and comfortable articles of apparel evi- 
dently designed to take the place of his purloined 
"'business suit.” Furthermore the chair was set 
against the open door of a bath-room, — a circum- 
stance in itself of no great importance, only a sim- 
ple reminder of the laws of health, which to a 
sensitive nature might be an embarrassing hint. 

In the matter of cleanliness Matt was by no means 
sensitive. He only saw in this arrangement the 
expression of Roy’s wishes ; and the delicate man- 


88 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


ner in which he, a vagabond, was treated, touched 
him, and overthrew the obstinacy with which he' 
was preparing himself to combat any further at- 
tempt to better his condition. Having made up 
his mind to accept the situation, he set about his 
novel task with an energy to which he had long 
been a stranger. ' When fully attired, and seated by 
the window to await further developments, no one 
would have recognized in the cleanly, well-dressed 
individual, the shiftless dirty beggar of the day 
before. 

In a few moments the door opened, and Roy with 
a cheery, “ Good-morning, old fellow,” stood before 
him. There was a quiver of the lips, a perceptible 
moisture in the eye of the old soldier, as he rose, 
and grasped the hand extended to him. 

“ O Roy, old friend, let me go ! This is no place 
for me. I have no right to the share I once held 
in your esteem. If you knew all I have been, all the 
degradation I have unblushingly sought, you would 
spurn me from your door. O Roy, let me go, let 
me go ! ” 

With a despairing wail as he uttered these words. 
Matt Winsor sunk back in the chair, covered his 
face with his hands, and wept. It requires little, 
after all, to make a man “ a child again.” 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


89 


Roy laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “ Too 
late, Matt, too late. These tears repay me for what 
I have already done, and encourage me in what I 
hope to do hereafter. There must be a hard strug- 
gle before the old life snatches you away from what 
I will open to you. No more drifting, old fellow.” 

“ But, Roy, listen to me ” — 

‘‘ After breakfast : it is on the table. My family 
is waiting for our appearance. You were always an 
eager hand for hot coffee : don’t let it get cold. 
Come.” 

Without a word Matt rose, and followed Roy to 
the dining-room. Mrs. Manning, in her place at 
the head of the table, greeted him with a cheerful 
“ Good-morning.” 

Bess, standing at a window, turned, and coolly 
bowed. Roy motioned Matt to a seat, and soon all 
were in their places ; Roy facing his wife, Bess and 
Matt opposite each other. 

Under the peculiar circumstances in which they 
were placed, the repast would have been a silent 
one but for the tact of Roy Manning. He immedi- 
ately plunged into the recital of a re-union of vet- 
erans of the war, which he had attended a few days 
before, where he met many of the old comrades ; 


90 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


thus interesting Matt at once, and diverting his 
thoughts from the singularity of his position. From 
this theme it was an easy passage to events of their 
four-years’ campaign. Still Matt’s questions and 
answers were few and brief ; and Roy, determined 
that his friend should take a more prominent posi- 
tion in the conversation, sacrificed his modesty by 
alluding to an event in their 



Roy, had been a hero. 


This drew from Mrs. Manning the' remark that 
she had never heard of that ; whereupon Matt, with 
a vividness and earnestness that astonished her, 
narrated the whole story. He even grew eloquent 
in praise of Roy ; and that worthy, fairly nonplussed, 
blushed to the eyes, and, to cover his confusion, 
broke into a roar of laughter, which so embarrassed 
Matt that he abruptly closed his recital. 

But Mrs. Manning’s interest was fairly aroused. 
Here was a new revelation of her husband’s worth, 
and Matt unknowingly had found a sure passport 
to favor. She had resented this intrusion upon their 
privacy, though like a sensible wife she had made 
no resistance to her husband’s eccentric proceed- 
ings. Even the desecration of her best chamber 
had been quietly acquiesced in, though it cost her 


THE NEW BIRTH. 91 

many a pang. But what fond wife could look 
coldly on a man who fairly glowed with enthusiasm 
at the recital of a husband’s bravery ? Not Roy’s 
wife. And so she plied the old comrade with ques- 
tions until another and another noble action was 
recorded. Roy was- pleased at the success of his 
ruse, but rather disgusted at the part he was made 
to play in it, and preserved a dignified silence while 
the laurels were figuratively being bound about his 
brow. 

Bess was in the sulks. She was angry at the 
man who had robbed her of her lover, took no part 
in the conversation, and looked her annoyance 
whenever their eyes chanced to meet, so that Mrs. 
Manning had the tramp to herself. 

When breakfast was over, — 

“ Now, Matt,” said Roy, “ for a smoke : come 
into the garden.” 

Out under the trees, with their pipes aglow, and 
the smoke wreathing about them, as in the old 
days, after a long march or a hard fight, they 
had been wont to discuss the events of the day, it 
was an easy task for Roy to come to terms with 
regard to the future. 

“ Your coming was providential. Matt,” he said. 


92 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


I want a helping hand here. I bought another 
horse yesterday, and have been thinking I must 
have a man about the place. Now, you know my 
ways ; and it’s much better to have a friend who 
can make himself agreeable to the ladies, so we 
shall get along pleasantly together. This place is 
your home ; you are one of the family, and I be- 
lieve you have gained quite enough experience of 
the old life to be willing to cut away from it alto- 
gether. I use no liquor, have used none since I 
left the army. There is no reason why you and 
I should not be friends as of old. So, knowing my 
ways, if you are willing to make them yours, 
why ” — 

Me stopped, dropped his right hand carelessly 
by his side, and waited. Not long : Matt’s hand 
slid into his. There was a warm clasp. 

“ Help me, Roy, to be worthy. God knows your 
friendship is all the world to me.” 

Thus began ’Matt Winsor’s new life. 

Roy Manning’s humanity flowed in no sluggish 
stream. Impetuous in action, he was not content 
to stand upon the shore, and throw a rope to a 
sinking fellow-mortal, but eagerly sprang into the 
flood to aid him in battling with the tide to regain 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


93 


the shore. His was not the charity that stands 
aloof, believing duty accomplished when a crust is 
thrown to a starving beggar, but the earnest be- 
nevolence that helps even to the rending of the last 
garment, the sharing of the last crust. And yet 
his impulsiveness grew out of the earnestness of 
his life. He thought deeply, and acted quickly. 
He had taken this outcast into the bosom of his 
family. It was a dangerous experiment, the world 
would say. He knew it, but he knew this man’s 
heart as no other could. Incrusted with the rust 
of years of vagabondage, he had lifted him to a 
social equality with himself, not from charity, but 
gratitude. He had saved his life ; he could repay 
the debt with interest, by giving him a life far bet- 
ter than he had ever known. So he lifted him at 
once to a place high above what he had known, and 
trusted the great big heart to prevent his falling 
back. 

And Matt, because Roy wished it, because this 
man for whom he would willingly lay down his life 
trusted him, shook off at once the load of wretched- 
ness he had been dragging for years, and earnestly 
endeavored to make himself worthy of that trust. 
The old cavalryman took charge of the stables. 


94 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


He was fond of the work, was eager to assist Roy’s 
wife, and even Nancy found herself relieved of 
much work. In a few days, when the novelty 
wore off, and he became familiar with the house 
and his friends, he brightened into a new being. 
He would sing at his work in the stables, talk to 
the horses as if they were human beings, chat 
with Nancy, and entertain Roy’s wife with cam- 
paign stories. He and Roy took long drives to- 
gether. He was introduced among the neighbors, 
and made friends wherever he went. Only Bess 
stood aloof : she answered him civilly but coldly 
when he spoke to her, would avoid him in the gar- 
den, and in every way managed to have him under- 
stand that she was terribly incensed for his conduct 
towards her lover. 

And Matt felt her dislike, — ■ felt it all the more 
keenly because he was attracted by her pretty face 
and coquettish ways, and wanted to be friends with 
her particularly. 

He bore her slight patiently for two months ; 
but one day, as she attempted to pass him with a 
cool bow in the garden, he placed himself before 
her, and removed his hat. 

“ Miss Bess, you don’t like me.” 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


95 


She looked up indignantly at his presumption. 

“No: there is no reason'why I should, and one 
very strong one why I should positively dislike 
you.” 

“Yes, I know, ^ Mr. Graves. It was my ugli- 
ness that caused his dismissal. Miss Bess, I would 
give much to recall not only that act, but all that 
went with it. You know my condition at the 
time ; that only could have made me commit so 
mean an act. But it is past. I cannot recall it.” 

“Neither can I forget it.” 

“ Can you not forgive it ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Then I must leave this place.” 

“ Leave it ? Why ? ” 

“ Because it is- not right that my presence here 
should annoy any member of this family. I am 
trying hard to reclaim the past. God knows it 
would almost break my heart to quit Roy now ; 
but I must go.” 

He brushed his hand across his eyes, and turned 
away. Bess ran after him, and laid her hand upon 
his arm. 

“Matt, there’s my hand. All’s forgotten, all’s 
forgiven, on one condition.” 


96 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“What’s that, little lady?” he asked, as he 
clasped her hand, with a bright face. 

“ That you will instantly take me to ride. Oh ! 
I’ve been longing to be upon the back of the new 
horse Roger ; and Roy said I must ask you, and I 
wouldn’t do that ; but now ” — 

“You shall ride him everyday; that is, if you 
will accept my escort.” 

“Willingly.” 

“ Then we are to be friends ? ” 

“Of course we are. I’m not going to be the 
one to drive you away. You might have found 
that out before, if you had tried. I only wanted a 
little coaxing.” 

They rode not only that day, but every day. 
Matt was devoted to her ; and the little coquette, 
finding what an admirer she had gained, left off 
mourning for the absent lover, and divided her 
smiles between the new horse Roger and her new 
attendant Matt, and grew bright with happiness 
and rosy with exercise. She had made a conquest. 
She knew that, when she saw the alacrity with 
which Matt flew at her call, the pleasure that 
glowed in his face when she spoke to him, and the 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


97 


earnest gaze with which he followed her as she 
moved about. She heard him sigh often too, and 
was happy, because she had some one to wait upon 
her. 

Roy’s wife saw all this, and regretted it. She 
was loyal to the absent lover, indignant at the 
coquetry of Bess, and annoyed at Matt’s presump- 
tion, She at once set down the admiration of. 
Matt for Bess, and his pleasure in her society, as a 
tender passion that would sadly interfere with the 
future happiness of Marcus ; and she lost no time 
in communicating her fears to Roy. 

She was seated in the doorway one evening. 
Roy was writing at the table. 

Roy, come here a moment.” 

Roy left his writing, and came to her side. 

‘'Well, May, what is it?” 

“ Look there, Roy.” 

She pointed to the garden. Roy looked. 

On a garden seat Matt was lounging, smoking 
his pipe. Bess was on the grass at his feet, her 
arm thrown across his knees, her eyes fastened on 
his face. He was speaking, and she was a pleased 
and interested listener. ‘ 


98 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“ I see,” said Roy carelessly. “ Sociable, aren’t 
they.?” 

“ Sociable ? Yes, as sociable as you and I were 
in the days of our courtship.” 

May said this bitterly, and Roy started at the 
tone of her voice. 

“ What of it ? ” said he. She’s contented ; and 
he’s old enough to be her father.” 

“ You were old enough to be mine when we 
married.” 

‘‘ Yes, I know ; but Matt ” — He laughed, 

** Don’t laugh, Roy : this troubles me.” 

“ Does it .? I’m sorry. May. There’s no cause 
for alarm. Besides, Matt is such a good fellow, I 
shouldn’t care if he was made happy in that way.” 

*'Roy, are you serious.? Have you forgotten 
Marcus Graves .? ” 

He was serious enough then ; he paced the 
room nervously. 

“No, no! she must be kept free for his sake. 
I’ll speak to Matt at once. I can’t do that,” he 
answered after a moment’s thought. “We may 
be mistaken.” 

“ Hadn’t you better write to Marcus .? ” 


THE NEW BIRTH. 


99 


No, but I will go to him. Strange we have 
heard nothing from him ! I’ll see for myself, how 
his affairs prosper. Pack my bag, May. I’ll be 
off to-morrow. I’ll deal fairly with him.” 

The next day Roy was off for Chicago. 


lOO 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Chapter lEtgijt. 


WORKING UP A CASE. 



F Marcus Graves committed an error in 
placing his case unreservedly in the hands 
of Detective Gooch, that worthy made a 
great mistake when he adopted the profession of a 
detective. He was singularly unqualified for that 
calling, at once arduous and dangerous, requiring 
for its successful pursuit the most intent study of 
mankind for years, to gain a knowledge of all the 
tricks, turns, and traceries of roguery. Coolness, 
shrewdness, and intelligence are* the primary quali- 
ties in the composition of a skilful crime-trapper ; 
neither of which Nosey Gooch” possessed. His 
first exploit, the “ Lamkin affair,” had also been 
his last. Its result had astonished him ; and the 
notoriety he achieved in consequence turned his 
head, and opened to his vivid imagination a suc- 
cessful career in a new line. 


WORKING UP A CASE. 


lOI 


When he took the fever, he was a well-to-do 
grocer, an easy-going bachelor, fond of a good 
dinner, or an evening s gossip over a bottle of wine. 
He at once disposed of his safe business at a low 
figure, and rushed into thief-taking, with the “ Lam- 
kin affair” and his nasal organ as capital. Had 
success depended merely upon his following his 
nose, he would have prospered immediately. * But 
when he had to go higher, and bring brains in to 
serve for the unravelling of a mystery, he bungled 
and miserably failed. He had the satisfaction of 
seeing shrewder and more experienced men pick 
up the trail, and run the rogue to earth, while he 
was deliberating which course to pursue. Still he 
was sought by many to whom the “ Lamkin affair ” 
seemed a smart transaction ; and, to cover his defi- 
ciencies, Gooch assumed mysterious ways, talked 
little, and magnanimously made his reward to 
depend upon success, only requiring his expenses 
should be paid. 

He was always strenuous on this point ; and 
well he might be, for here was his profit. To keep 
himself and his employer as long as possible from 
the end in view, required large outlays for investi- 
gation, gave him an excellent living at the expense 


102 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


of another, and allowed frequent opportunities for 
the cultivation of social qualities, on the plea of 
working up a case. Far from being a detective, he 
was the extreme opposite, a rogue. 

He joined Marcus at the appointed time, and 
together they journeyed to Chicago. On the way 
he drew from Marcus, by apparently shrewd ques- 
tioning, a full history of the house of Claggett, 
Bruce, & Co., its manner of doing business, a plan 
of the premises, short biographies of each of the 
firm as well as the employees, and numberless 
items of minor importance, but all bearing upon 
the robbery. 

He set about his examination with many shrugs 
and whispers, and such an air of mystery that 
Marcus was convinced the man knew his business, 
and would serve him faithfully. 

On their arrival at Chicago, they took quarters 
at a hotel ; and Marcus by Gooch’s direction called 
upon Messrs. Claggett, Bruce, & Co. He was 
received with cold civility by the head of the con- 
cern, who, in answer to his inquiries, informed him 
that no new revelations had been made, and that, 
from the continued honesty of his employees, he 
was convinced that he had made no mistake in his 


WORKING UP A CASE. 


103 


first suspicions ; upon which Marcus, without a 
word, coolly bowed himself out. 

Upon reporting to “ Nosey,” that individual bade 
him take no further steps in the matter, but to go 
about his business, and leave him to investigate, 
first placing at his disposal the sum of one hundred 
dollars for expenses. 

The next day, with his samples, Marcus started 
for a trip in the vicinity of Chicago, leaving Gooch 
the occupant of a well-furnished room in one of the 
best of Chicago’s hotels, and the possession of the 
sum above named. 

When fairly out of town, Gooch made a visit to 
the house of Claggett, Bruce, & Co., and asked an 
interview with the senior partner. He was shown 
to a private counting-room and into the presence 
of Mr. Moses Claggett. That gentleman, an el- 
derly, robust individual, was stalking up and down 
the room, evidently in no gentle mood. The 
house dealt largely in woollens. That commodity 
had dropped” very suddenly, and they had a 
large stock : hence his annoyance. 

“ Well, sir, what is it ? ” 

Gooch bowed politely, turned, and shut the door ; 
then, with his finger on hi3 nose, proffered his 
card. 


104 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Mr. Claggett took it, and read, — 


GABRIEL GOOCH. 


Secret Service. 


NEW YORK. 


‘‘ Well, sir, what business have you with me } ” 
‘^You had a young man in your employ three 
years ago, — Marcus Graves.” 

Mr. Claggett started. A detective and Marcus 
so close together ! This was interesting. 

‘‘ Well, sir, what of him ? ” 

“ He was in Chicago yesterday.” 

I know it.” 

‘‘Can you give me any information as to his 
whereabouts } The fact is, — confidential, you 
know ; strictly confidential, — I am employed by 
parties in New York to keep him in sight. You 
understand.” 

Gooch winked and grinned in the most confiden- 
tial manner. 

“ Ah ! ” said Mr. Claggett with a sneer, “ he’s 
been at more roguery, has he ? ” 

“ More roguery } ” said Gooch with the most 
innocent air of surprise. “ Did you ever know him 
to be guilty of a crime ? ” 

“He robbed me of five hundred dollars, the 
scoundrel ! ” n 


WORKING UP A CASE. 105 

Ah, that’s news! that’s good news I speaking 
professionally of course. I have a natural pity for 
the misfortunes of others ; but business, you know, 
like mine, must not allow sympathy and that sort 
of thing to stand in the way of success. So he 
robbed you, did he Was it clearly proven ? ” 

“I was satisfied,” replied Mr. Claggett coldly, 
rather unfavorably impressed with the manner of 
his visitor. 

“ Yes, yes ; but was he brought to trial ? You’ll 
excuse me ; but, as I am working up a very impor- 
tant case, any information as to his former life 
would be of great service.” 

“_He was placed on trial. There was not evi- 
dence sufficient to sustain the charge, and he was 
released. Still he was guilty.” 

DeaV me I dear me I How loosely the case 
must have been worked up ! Had it been placed 
in my hands, I should not have rested until I had 
a clear case of evidence without a broken link in it. 
Not one, sir, — not one. As it is, he is innocent, 
after all.” 

“ Innocent ! ” Mr. Claggett opened his eyes. 

''Certainly, sir. Until proved guilty in a court 
of justice, criminals are innocent in the eye of the 
law.” 


io6 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Mr. Claggett would have considered this mere 
bosh, had he not an inward conviction that he had 
not very shrewdly conducted his case against 
Graves. His discharge had been a source of 
mortification to him. He knew there was one of 
his firm who thought Marcus had been unjustly 
treated ; and he regretted that he had been unable 
to bring his charge to a triumphant issue. Detec- 
tive Gooch had stumbled upon an old saw that cut 
even in his unskilful hands. 

What crime has he been guilty of now ? ” said 
Mr. Claggett, after a moment’s pause. 

“ Secret service,” said Gooch rubbing his hands, 
and winking, “ doesn’t allow us to divulge princi- 
pals. It’s a case of breach of trust. I can tell 
you that much.” 

“ Shall you arrest him .? ” 

** Not without proof of former crime. Now, this 
case of yours, if properly worked up, might give 
me just cause to snatch him on the other. Did 
you employ a detective ? ” 

“ No.” 

Would you now ? ” 

Yes, if it’s not too late.” 

** If you’ll place the matter in my hands unre- 


WORKING UP A CASE. I07 

servedly, I will assure you a conviction or no 
charge.” 

“You will undertake this without charge: do I 
understand you ? ” 

“No charge : merely expenses. Of course I 
should expect that while investigating.” 

“ Well, what for expenses ? ” 

“ Well, say one hundred dollars.” 

“Good-morning, Mr. Gooch. I do not desire 
your services.” 

Mr. Claggett turned to his desk. 

“ But, sir ” — 

Mr. Claggett turned angrily. 

“ Convict this man in a court of justice, and you 
shall have five hundred dollars, but not a cent for 
expenses. Good-morning, sir.” 

The shrewd bird of business, who had grown 
plump by forty years pickings in the fields of 
trade, was too old to be caught by chaff. 

Gooch bowed and withdrew. He opened the 
door softly, but closed it with a slam. He was a 
little disappointed. He knew Marcus must he 
innocent. All he expected was to gain time from 
both parties, for time to him was indeed money — 
with his expenses paid. He must content himself 


io8 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


with Marcus. There was no money at the other 
end of the case. 

In a fortnight Marcus returned. Gooch had his 
report ready. He was moving slowly but surely. 
It was a case of false keys.. The real thief was in 
the counting-room, one of three, — the book- 
keeper, the assistant book-keeper, and the cashier. 
One was fond of billiards, the second kept a fast 
horse, and the third was to be found every night in 
a drinking-saloon. He had made the acquaintance 
of all. It had cost him money, but he was friends 
with them. A little more time and a little more 
money, and he should have a clew. 

Marcus laid down another hundred dollars, with- 
out reflecting that he had in this manner paid 
Gooch for four weeks’ service ; packed up his sam- 
ples, and was off again. 

This time he was gone six weeks. On his re- 
turn, Gooch had nothing more definite to report ; 
he was slowly but surely winning his way to the 
confidence of the suspected parties, but he must 
have time and money. Upon this Marcus, for the 
first time, grew suspicious. Two months connec- 
tion with the shrewd detective had already cost 
him three hundred and fifty dollars for board and 


WORKING UP A CASE. I09 

‘^expenses;” and there were no visible signs of his 
being any nearer the object of his mission. ^ He 
was doing a good business ; but he felt that this 
constant drain upon his funds, if kept up for any 
length of time, would sadly embarrass him. The 
sudden downfall of his hopes with Bessie had 
made him thoughtless and reckless. At the start 
he had accepted Gooch’s proposition, on Simon’s 
recommendation, and, depressed by his separation 
from Bessie, had allowed his bitter disappointment 
to overshadow his judgment and business tact, un- 
til the necessity of looking after his money matters 
had opened his eyes to the situation. He felt it 
was now time to take some decisive steps, and 
bring Gooch to account. But 'the. detective was 
prepared for just such an encounter, and, producing 
his memorandum-book, made so plausible a show 
of his expeditions in treating, testing, and tracking , 
the parties suspected, that Graves was compelled to 
accept his statement as entirely professional,” 
and to give him further time and money. 

Again they parted ; and three weeks from that 
day Marcus returned, impatient to learn what 
he had been promised, — “ something definite.” 
Gooch was away when he arrived about noon ; and 


no 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Marcus, after dining, awaited his appearance in his 
own room. 

There was a knock on the door. Marcus threw 
it open, expecting to meet Gooch ; instead of which, 
he found himself face to face with Roy Manning. . 

“ The last man you expected to see, hey ? ” said 
Roy, advancing with extended hand, “ but none the 
less welcome, I trust, on that account.” 

Marcus took the hand greedily. Any token 
from the old happy days was so welcome to his 
hungry heart ! 

Indeed, Mr. Manning, I never was so glad to 
meet a man in my life ; ” and he shook his hand 
heartily. 

^‘Well, how goes the battle.^ Have you con- 
quered the enemy ? ” 

Marcus shook his head sadly. “ I am no nearer 
vindication than I was the day I left your house.” 

“ That’s bad. What steps have you taken ? I 
beg your pardon ; you may think that this is none 
of my business ; but there is a warm interest in 
all our hearts for you still, and I have come here 
expressly to take you back with me.” 

With this blot still upon my name } ” 

If you wish it, yes. But do you ? ” 


WORKING UP A CASE. 


Ill 


“No,” replied Marcus, “never. Never will I 
enter your house until I am cleared of this infa- 
mous charge.” 

“I thought so,” said Roy coolly. “Now let’s 
hear what you have been about.” 

Marcus detailed the history of his connection 
with Gooch, that worthy’s suspicions, and his treat- 
ment of the case, meekly, and in rather doleful 
accents. Roy listened patiently. 

“Why, this fellow is a rogue, a cheat. You 
have been swindled outrageously.” 

“ I begin to think so ; ” and Marcus uttered a 
groan. 

Roy looked at the young fellow sharply. There 
was none of the swaggering dash of three months 
ago about him now. He was pale and thin, care- 
lessly dressed, and evidently ill at ease. It was 
plain that disappointment was wearing upon him ; 
and Roy, as he marked these changes, felt he had 
hardly acted a friendly part in leaving him to work 
out his own salvation. • 

“ Marcus,” he said, “ you lack experience in these 
matters. You have fallen into the hands of a 
sharper. Will you let me repair the wrong I com- 
mitted ” — 


II2 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“You have done me no wrong,” broke in Mar- 
cus. “You told me the truth; and I thank you 
for it now, as I did then.” 

“ I did wrong you nevertheless ; for I could have 
helped you in this, and I made no offer of assist- 
ance.” 

“ You help me ? how, pray } ” 

“Tell me the story of the defalcation or robbery. 
I have never heard it.” 

“ I was bookkeeper for the firm of Claggett, 
Bruce, & Co., three years ago. I settled my cash 
one night : every thing was correct. I locked my 
money in its usual place, — a drawer in the safe, of 
which I had the o^nly key, — then went home. The 
next morning I found all as I had left it. During 
the forenoon I was asked by Mr. Claggett for a 
package of money — five hundred dollars — which 
he said he had placed in my drawer the night 
before. It seems he had been out of town collect- 
ing, had returned after the store was closed, and 
having keys had entered the store, opened the safe, 
and placed it in my drawer, that I might find it on 
opening in the morning. I could not give it to 
him, for there was no such package there.” 

“ How could he open your drawer if you had the 
only key to it ? ” 


WORKING UP A CASE. II3 

“ There are five drawers in the safe, one above 
the other. The upper one was for his private use ; 
the second was mine. He unlocked his, pulled it 
out, and placed the money in mine ; then locked 
his own. This was his story.” 

“ So that he and you were the only parties con- 
cerned in this transaction, and between you lies 
the robbery.” 

Unless some other party in the store had a 
false key. This is Gooch’s theory.” 

** Gooch is a bungler or a scamp, and his theory 
is not worthy of credence.” 

I stoutly denied ever having seen the money, 
and Mr. Claggett had me arrested. On my exam- 
ination the charge was not sustained ; and it was 
dropped, and I was discharged.” 

** Was the safe thoroughly examined } ” 

“ I believe so. I myself made a careful examin- 
ation, but no trace of the money could be found.” 

“Is Mr. Claggett a temperate man } ” 

“ In his habits, yes ; in his manner, no.” 

“ What is your theory ? ” 

“That some of my fellow-clerks must have ab- 
stracted the package with a false key.” 

“ Then you and Gooch agree in that ? ” 


SOMETHING BETTER, 


II4 

*‘Yes.” 

Have you any objection to my making a call 
upon Mr. Claggett ? ” 

None. Stay ! I have placed the matter unre- 
servedly in the hands of Gooch : am I acting right 
in allowing you to interfere ? ” 

‘*Are you perfectly satisfied with Mr. Gooch’s 
operations ? ” 

No.” 

“ Then allow me to interfere. I will not harm 
his case. I will act independently, charge nothing 
for my services, and will not draw on you for ex- 
penses. It’s clear you were not to blame in this 
transaction, my boy. I believe you innocent ; and 
now I’m going to make Mr. Claggett come down 
from his high horse, and admit it.” 

‘‘ How.?” 

“ I’ll let you know in an hour. Keep cool, and if 
Gooch puts in an appearance keep dark regarding 
me. Good-by.” He rose, and took his hat. 

“ By the way, Bessie sent her dear, dear love ; 
and Mrs. Roy — Well, she sent me, so be sure 
you will receive a warm welcome when we return.” 


AN UNPROFESSIONAL DETECTIVE. 


”5 


Cfjapter Ntne. 

AN UNPROFESSIONAL DETECTIVE. 

OY was not slow in making his way to the 
presence of Mr. Moses Claggett. He had 
no theory to demonstrate, no fixed plan of 
action ; nothing but a righteous indignation at the 
manner in which suspicion had been fastened 
upon Marcus, moving him to confront the man 
whose hasty judgment had worked so much mis- 
chief in the bright prospects of an innocent youth. 

He did not pause to consider that the interfer- 
ence of a perfect stranger in the affairs of the 
house might be construed as impudent meddling, 
and be treated coldly. If he had, he would have 
gone just the same, trusting his honest convictions 
to find a way, or make one, through any obstacle 
that might be placed in his path. 

He was lucky enough to find, on his entrance to 
Mr. Claggett’ s private room, an old friend from 



ii6 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


New York, Mr. Oscar Drew, who was just taking 
leave of the principal. He greeted Roy warmly. 

“ Ah, Mr. Manning ! glad to meet you. A long 
way from home, old fellow.” 

Yes,” replied Roy ; “ but fortunate to meet one 
who can make me at home here where I am a per- 
fect stranger ; ” and he nodded significantly towards 
Mr. Claggett. 

Ah, yes ! — Claggett, this is one of our people, 
Mr. Roy Manning. You cannot treat him too 
well. I wouldn’t say it to everybody, but he’s a 
silent partner in our house.” 

Mr. Claggett’s face overspread with a glow of 
welcome as he extended his hand to Roy. 

‘‘ Happy to meet you, sir.” 

He handed him a chair. Mr. Drew resumed his 
seat; and the three gentlemen fell. into an ani- 
nfeted discussion of business affairs, which lasted 
for some time. Roy had thus an oportunity to study 
the face, and gain some knowledge of the character- 
istics, of the man with whom he was to deal. 

He could be either coldly civil or enthusiastically 
cordial. These two points were confirmed by 
Marcus’s report and his own reception. Slightly 
grandiloquent in speech, loading a sentence with 


AN UNPROFESSIONAL DETECTIVE. II7 

adjectives before he allowed it to fall upon the 
listening ear, and smacking his lips after it had 
escaped as if to applaud it, gave Roy the impres- 
sion that Mr. Claggetds estimate of himself was 
far above par. The tenacity with which he held 
to a statement showed he could be obstinate. The 
evident gratification with which he received the 
approval of an opinion showed he was not insen- 
sible to flattery. A very common sort of a man, 
after all ; obstinate when driven, pliant when coaxed; 
this was Roy’s mental estimate after a review of the 
robbery and a half-hour’s chat face to face. 

When Mr. Drew departed on a plea of business, 
Mr. Claggett settled back in his chair, tapped the 
fingers of one hand against their opposite neigh- 
bors, and with a smiling face turned to Roy. 

And now, my dear friend, what can I do for 
you in the way of business ? I should be very 
glad to assist you.” 

Roy plunged at once into the affair in which he 
was engaged. 

“ I am here in the interest of Marcus Graves.” 

The gladness of which Mr. Claggett spoke faded 
from his face, -giving place to a scowl so fierce that 
Roy fully expected an angry outbreak to follow. 


ii8 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


He was agreeably disappointed. The recollection 
that his visitor was a silent partner in a house he 
was anxious to conciliate, checked the rush of the 
angry wave ; and the smile rippled back. 

“ The subject is a disagreeable one to me, sir, — 
distressingly disagreeable. I know not in what 
manner you propose to revive this sad recurrence 
in my honorable career ; but you shall complain of 
no want of attention on my part, sir, — none ; ” and 
he waved his hand with a lordly gesture that plainly 
implied that Roy was to proceed. Roy was slightly 
nettled at the consequential air. 

.*‘No doubt the subject is disagreeable to you ; 
but to Marcus Graves and his friends, it is some- 
thing more, — it is painful.” 

'^Ah!” said Mr. Claggett, with a sneer. *‘You 
believe in his innocence.” 

Most assuredly, or I should not be here in his 
behalf. You certainly must at times have doubts 
of the wisdom of your action in the matter, from 
the fact that the young man is now in high stand- 
ing with a noted New York house, who, hearing 
his story, have not hesitated to give him both time 
and money to prosecute the case for some clew to 
the real perpetrator of the robbery.” 


AN UNPROFESSIONAL DETECTIVE. II9 

No, sir ! ” thundered Mr. Claggett. I have 
never doubted for one instant that my first suspi- 
cions were correct. He was the thief.” 

He emphasized his remark with a smashing blow 
upon his desk, and looked undeniably obstinate. 

Roy hastened to smooth the fur he had brushed 
the wrong way. 

“ Mr. Claggett, of your wisdom and sagacity there 
can be no question. Your position as the head of 
this flourishing firm, your influence in public af- 
fairs, and the high esteem in which you are held 
for acts of benevolence, emboldened me, a perfect 
stranger, to take counsel with you in this matter. 
I would not for a moment seek to alter your decis- 
ion, did I not feel that your sense of justice would 
lead you to calmly review all the circumstances in 
the case, if you thought there was a possibility that 
a mistake had been made.” 

Roy paused, with a long-drawn breath of relief. 
Flattery he detested ; and the fulsome sentences 
he had compelled himself to utter left a bitter taste 
in his mouth. But the sugar-coated pill did its 
work. 

Right ! you are perfectly right, Mr. Manning. 
No one can say I am obstinate in my convictions, 


120 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


— my honest convictions. If you can show me 
reason for the reversal of my decision, I am ready 
to do so ; more, to proclaim to the world my behef 
in this unfortunate young man's innocence.” 

“ Thank you. Will you be kind enough to give 
me your version of the robbery ? I have already 
heard the story from Marcus Graves.” 

Certainly, sir. It is a very short story.” 

In a very lengthy narrative, seasoned with his 
usual flow of qualifications, Mr. Claggett told -the 
story. It differed in no way from what Roy had 
already heard. 

"Thank you,” he said on its conclusion. " Now, 
sir, you are fully convinced of the honesty of your 
employees in the counting-room ? ” 

"Fully. Fora year after this occurrence they 
were carefully watched by detectives. Mr. Arker, 
my book-keeper, is a man of family, and week in 
and week out goes from his desk to his house all 
right, and back in the morning. Mr. Leonard, his 
assistant, is a member of my own family. Mr. 
Bond, the cashier, a young man with religious 
tendencies, divides his spare time between Sunday 
school and prayer-meetings. There can be no 
question of their honesty.” 


AN UNPROFESSIONAL DETECTIVE. 


I2I 


And yet I have been told that Mr. Arker is 
fond of billiards, Mr. Leonard keeps a fast horse, 
and Mr. Bond can be found every evening in a 
drinking-saloon.” 

“ Absurd, sir ! ridiculous ! Who gave you that 
information } ” 

It came from a detective named Gooch.” 

“ Gooch 1” cried Mr. Claggett, glancing at a card 
on his desk, — “ Gabriel Gooch, New York ? ” 

That is the man. He is employed by Marcus 
Graves.” 

“ The scoundrel ! He wanted me to employ him 
to prove the guilt of Graves.” 

“ Very likely, sir. I have no confidence in him 
or his statements. I have no doubt your people 
are correct their habits, and have been maligned 
by Gooch. Now, sir, will you be kind enough to 
allow me to examine your safe } ” 

Certainly, though I fear you will find nothing 
there to give you a clew. This way, if you please.” 

They passed from Mr. Claggett’ s room to the 
office.” This was an enclosure having the safe, 
which was built in the wall, as a background. The 
desk ran round three sides of the enclosure, with 
windows on two sides through which money affairs 


122 


SOMETHING ]feETTER. 


with the store were transacted. The three sus- 
pected parties were at their posts. Mr. Claggett 
introduced Roy to each of them ; and by his order 
the safe was opened. 

It was six feet deep and about twelve feet high. 
Mr. Arker applied a match to a gas-jet at the en- 
trance ; and the interior was fully shown by the 
light. On either side of the passage were shelves 
filled with the books of the concern ; at the right, 
near the door, was a stand of wooden drawers, five 
in number. Mr. Claggett took a key from his 
pocket, unlocked the upper drawer, and drew it 
out. 

“This is my drawer. My first thought on en- 
tering the safe that evening was to place the money 
here ; and I opened the drawer for that purpose. 
Then I wanted Graves to notice it on his arrival : 
so I drew it entirely out, and placed the money in 
his drawer. You see it is a very easy thing to do.” 

As he spoke he drew it away from its receptacle, 
disclosing the contents of the second drawer be- 
neath. 

Roy noticed that the drawer, when it quitted its 
casing, struck the books on the opposite side of the 
safe. He took it from Mr. Claggett’ s hands, placed 


AN UNPROFESSIONAL DETECTIVE. 


123 


it on the shelf above the drawers, and pushed it 
back against the wall. There was a space between 
the drawer and the edge of the shelf of six inches. 
Then stooping down, he thrust his hand into the 
opening made by the displaced drawer. A sus- 
picion which Marcus’s recital had awakened was 
confirmed. The - stanchions which supported the 
drawers were six inches from the back of the safe. 

*‘Was the second drawer full when you placed 
the money there, Mr. Claggett ? ” 

“ It was quite full.” 

“ Will you allow me to examine another drawer ? ” 

“ Certainly ; which ? ” 

The lower drawer, if you please.” 

Mr. Bond was called. He was custodian of the 
key to that drawer. It was unlocked, and drawn 
half way out. 

Then Roy, on his knees, pulled it from its setting, 
and, thrusting his arm in, drew from the depths of 
the aperture a small package tied with red tape. 

“ If I am not greatly mistaken, Mr. Claggett, here 
is the lost parcel ; ” and he placed it in the hands of 
the principal, who had been watching his proceed- 
ings curiously. 

Mr. Claggett looked at it, and turned pale. 


124 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Roy had made up his mind that he was a man 
of extremes ; but he was hardly prepared for what 
followed. 

Mr. Claggett turned pale, shook as if with a sud- 
den ague-fit, and then threw up his arms, and fairly 
shrieked, — 

“ My God ! my God ! What have I done } 

Roy seized him in his strong arms, and dragged 
him from the safe. He sunk into a chair, covered 
his face, and wept and sobbed. Only a moment : 
he was on his feet again. 

‘‘Bruce, Arker, everybody, hear me! Young 
Graves was innocent I was the thief, I was the 
thief.” 

Roy hurried him into his private room, and shut 
the door. 

“ Mr. Claggett, compose yourself : you will be ill.” 

“ I wish I was dead I oh, this' wretched business ! 
How could I have been such a fool, such an idiot ! ” 

He walked the floor, bit his lips, and wrung his 
hands. Roy seated himself, and, without speaking, 
watched him. He had done his part. The criminal 
was suffering punishment from the stinging blows 
his pride was inflicting ; and, remembering all that 
Marcus had suffered, he felt it was deserved, and 


AN UNPROFESSIONAL DETECTIVE. 


125 


had no disposition with consoling balm to assuage 
the anguish of his smarts. 

When Mr. Claggett at last turned towards him, it 
was with such a piteous face that Roy felt inclined 
to laugh, notwithstanding the seriousness of the 
situation. 

Mr. Manning, what can I do in this matter ” 

What do you propose, Mr. Claggett ” 

*‘Any thing, every thing, in my power. The morn- 
ing papers shall have a full report of this occurrence, 
with the name of the guilty party. I’ll not spare 
myself. Marcus Graves shall be proclaimed inno- 
cent if printers’ ink can do it.^ His old situation 
is open to him if he will take it, with full pay 
from the time he resigned it. Where is he } I am 
ready to go on my knees, and ask his forgiveness.” 

Mr. Claggett was excited, but very much in 
earnest. 

Mr. Graves is at the Western House.” 

I will go to him at once.” 

‘‘ Better wait until I have seen him. If you will 
call this evening, I will prepare him for your visit.” 

“Just as you say, Mr. Manning. What a pack 
of fools I have in this place ! Not one of them had 
sense enough to look behind the drawers in the 
search,” — not one, not even the principal. 


126 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


I will see you this evening,” said Roy, rising. 

I am gratified that the affair has been brought to 
such a successful termination.” 

So am I, sir,” said Mr. Claggett, giving his 
hand, — “ heartily glad. I have no excuse to offer 
for my part in it: I shall regret it to my dying 
day.” 

Roy shook hands with the penitent, and departed. 
On his way he cordially invited the book-keeper 
and his assistants to call upon Marcus that evening. 
The invitation was eagerly accepted, for Marcus 
had been a favorite among them. 

Many curious eyes were fastened upon him as he 
passed through the store, and once he heard the 
whispered word “ detective.” Roy smiled, and 
looked at his watch. 

“An hour’s work has made me famous. Not 
bad for an amateur.” 


EXIT GOOCH. 


127 


Cljapter Km. 

EXIT GOOCH. 

ARCUS GRAVES awaited the appearance 
I of Mr. Gooch with impatience. Heartily 
sick of his long delay in bringing matters 
to a decisive point of suspicion, from which prog- 
ress might be made towards a satisfactory settle- 
ment of his affair, he was determined to rid him- 
self of the helper” who had become a greater bur- 
den than he could afford to carry. Should he have 
no favorable report to make, he would discharge 
him at once, and trust his fate to the hands of Roy. 
Of the latter’s ability to find some clew that might 
tend in the right direction, he had no doubt ; but 
the thought that his visit to the senior partner that 
day would be crowned with any measure of success 
never entered his mind. 

Great was his astonishment therefore, when at 
the expiration of an hour Roy, true to his promise, 
burst into the room with a radiant face. 



128 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Glorious news, my boy ! The mystery is un- 
veiled. The money is found, and you are declared 
innocent.” 

Marcus’s face paled ; his eyes dilated, and he 
stared wildly at Roy, who with hand extended stood 
before him triumphantly happy. 

“ The money found ! where ^ who found it ? ” 

“ Your detective of course,” 

Gooch ? ” 

“ Gooch be hanged ! I found it. Didn’t I tell you 
I would take your case in hand ? ” 

But where ? how } who stole it ? ” 

“ It was not stolen at all. When you told me 
your drawer was full, I had a faint suspicion how 
the mischief was done ; and an examination of the 
safe confirmed that suspicion. There was a vacant 
space behind the drawers. Mr. Claggett, after 
putting the money in your drawer, closed his own, 
and in so doing pushed the package behind the 
drawer. It fell to the floor ; and there it has lain 
until to-day, when I had the goo(4 fortune to res- 
cue it.” 

Marcus grasped Roy’s hand, and wrung it with 
tears in his eyes. 

How much I owe you ! how differently all this 


EXIT GOOCH. 


129 


wasted time might have been employed, if I had 
trusted you at first ! ” 

No doubt of it, my boy. But let that pass : we 
will -be thankful for what time, has brought us.” 

And Mr. Claggett, the dignified, unbending old 
aristocrat, was the thief, after all.” 

Not exactly a thief.” 

“ He was : he robbed me of my good name,” said 
Marcus fiercely. 

“That’s true, but it’s restored to you brighter 
than ever from the ordeal it has passed. If Mr. 
Claggett can have his way, you will be a hero.” 

“ Mr. Claggett, what does he propose ? ” said 
Marcus, with a sneer. 

“ First he will have all the particulars of this 
discovery made public.” 

“ That’s very kind of him,” said Marcus bitterly. 
“ No doubt he thinks it would make a better story 
coming from his lips than from mine. Shrewd as 
ever.” 

Roy whistled. This aspect of Mr. Clagget’s de- 
sire for publicity had ^ot struck him. 

“ He feels deeply the crime he has committed, 
and offers” (Roy was about to say “ample,” but 
checked himself with a cough) “reparation: first, 


130 SOMETHING BETTER. 

your old position, with full pay from the time you 
resigned.” 

“ Go back to his place ? never ! ” 

Second, he will pay any amount you may 
name” — 

Marcus sprung to his feet. 

“ Mr. Manning, I believe you are the best friend 
I have in the world ; but if I thought you had so 
mean an opinion of me as to believe I would touch 
his money, I should have regrets for having trusted 
you.” 

“ That’s all right, my boy,” replied Roy coolly. 
“ Being in the detective line, I must make my re- 
port. Of course you will not take his money, but 
take a word of advice from me. Let him pay 
Gooch’s expenses: that’s fair.” 

“ The infernal scoundrel ! how can I punish 
him .? ” 

“ Has he turned up yet ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ I hope he will keep away until evening. Mr. 
Claggett is coming to see you, Mr. Arker, and the 
rest of Gooch’s suspected parties. If he could 
only drop in then, I think we rnight make it warm 
for him.” 


EXIT GOOCH. 


“ When do you return, Mr. Manning ” 

“When you say, my boy. Having satisfactorily 
settled your business, nothing remains for me but 
to return, and report to Mrs. Roy.” 

“ Let us go to-morrow morning. I am tired of 
this place.” 

“ And impatient to meet better company ? All 
right ; only we must settle with Gooch.” 

It was well into the evening before the detective 
was heard from. 

Marcus was seated at a table in the centre of 
the room, writing ; Roy, in a high arm-chair, the 
back of which screened him from observation, with 
his feet on the window-sill, was puffing his cigar, 
and gazing at the stars “’twixt the toes of his 
boots,” when a faint knock was heard at the door. 
It opened noiselessly, and Mr. Gooch appeared. 
In the mysterious manner which was a part of his 
education, he closed it softly, placed his back 
against it, and, with his finger on his nose, stood 
there grave and silent. There was a sheepish look 
upon his face, as if he felt a little doubtful of his 
reception, which quickly passed away when Marcus 
looked up pleasantly. 

“Ah, Mr. Gooch! glad to see you, —very glad 
to see you.” 


132 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Mr. Gooch, with a billowy smile that surged over 
his variegated features, slid forward with extended 
hand, which Marcus did not or would not see. 

“ Thank you, thank you, Mr. Graves. Glad to 
welcome you once more.” 

“ Well, what news ? any thing of importance in 
our little affair } ” 

“ Things are working completely to my satisfac- 
tion, — so well that on your next visit I shall be 
prepared to strike — to strike.” 

Mr. Gooch swelled pompously as he spoke, and 
made a couple of dashes with his fist at an imagi- 
nary foe. 

“You see, sir, in all great undertakings like this, 
it requires time and calculation before you can 
strike a decisive blow ; suspicion in this case being 
fastened upon a wide circle, represented by the 
book-keeper, his assistant, and the cashier.” 

“ Three points : why not call it a triangle ? ” said 
Marcus with a smile. 

“ Call it what you like : I call it a circle. I must 
work up all three, gain their confidence, and drive 
the real culprit, by the aid of the others, to the 
point.” 

“ The point within the circle, — I see.” 


EXIT GOOCH. 


133 


Marcus saw it was all nonsense, but did not 
choose to say it. 

‘'Well, in travelling among your circle, what 
have you discovered ” 

Mr. Gooch, bent his head low, and whispered 
mysteriously, — 

“ That all three have false keys to the safe, and 
every drawer in it.” 

“The deuce you have! What is your next 
move ^ ” 

“ I have loaned Arkef the book-keeper money ; 
he wants more, has pressing need for a hundred 
dollars. You will supply it, no doubt. I will loan 
it to him : then in three days, having an imme- 
diate call, he must get it for me.” 

" And you think ” — 

“ That with his false keys he will obtain it.” 

Marcus laughed loudly. Such a scheme broached 
to him showed him what a fool this scamp took 
him to be. Roy echoed the laugh, not loudly, but 
it attracted Gooch’s attention. He looked towards 
the window, and saw a puff of smoke curling above 
the chair. He started, and looked frightened. 

“ You’ve a visitor : he has overheard our conver- 
sation.” 


134 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“Oh ! never mind him ; that’s the other.” 

“ The other ? what other ? ” 

“ The other detective,” said Marcus quietly. . 

Gooch fairly jumped, and stared at the back of 
the easy-chair in amazement. 

“ Detective, Mr. Graves ? Have you forgotten 
that you placed this affair unreservedly in my 
hands.?” 

“No, I haven’t ; nor how heavily you have made 
me pay for your attention. * This gentleman under- 
took his part of his own accord ; and, I am happy 
to say, has been successful.” 

“ Successful ! ” shrieked Mr. Gooch. 

“Yes. Unlike you, instead of prowling round 
the circle, he plumped straight into the centre, and 
made his point by finding the money after an 
hour’s search.” 

Mr. Gooch said nothing, but the color changed 
on his face frorn red to purple, and his prominent 
feature twitched convulsively. 

“ It seems there was no robbery, after all. The 
money was accidentally pushed behind the drawers, 
where it was discovered to-day.” 

Roy wheeled his chair about at this, and faced 
Mr. Gooch. 


EXIT GOOCH. 


135 


“ That’s exactly the story, Mr. Gooch ; and you 
have been pursuing a wild-goose- chase, and pluck- 
ing the goose as you went along.” 

Mr. Gooch glanced at the bold interloper, then 
turned his back upon him. 

“ And you believe this story, Mr. Graves } ” 

‘‘ Certainly. The money is found, and my inno- 
cence is assured.” 

“ Accidentally pushed behind the drawers ! I 
don’t believe a word of it. It’s very unprofes- 
sional, the whole proceeding. What this detective 
has found out only confirms my suspicions. The 
money was not accidentally pushed there : it was 
placed there by one of the parties whom I have 
under watch. I’ll stake my professional reputation 
upon it.” 

Mr. Gooch made this statement with much 
energy and dignity ; and Roy looked astonished at 
the effrontery of the man. He was evidently try- 
ing to make the best of a bad scrape. 

“ I think I can convince you of your mistake, 
Mr. Gooch,” said Roy. 

“ I will have nothing to do with you. You have 
acted in a very unprofessional manner. The case 
is mine, and you have attempted to rob me of the 


136 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


glory of achieving a triumph. But I will not give 
it up. If my client Mr. Graves will still trust me, 
I will convict the culprit, or perish in the attempt.’* 

With this bit of bombast,' Mr. Gooch made 
another blow at an imaginary foe, and walked the 
floor in wrath and indignation. 

“ Which means more time and money, I be- 
lieve,*’ said Marcus. 

Certainly,” answered Gooch with dignity. 

Another knock at the door, and in walked 
Messrs. Arker, Leonard, and Bond. 

Roy sprung forward to greet them. Marcus 
rose as they came toward him, and civilly greeted 
them ; but Mr. Gooch with a sneer walked towards 
the window, and seemed deeply interested in some- 
thing outside. 

A few moments they stood together talking 
pleasantly, and then Roy turned towards the silent 
figure at the window. 

“ Mr. Gooch, here are some friends you will be 
glad to meet. Here’s Mr. Arker, the gentleman 
with whom you play billiards.” 

Mr. Gooch did not stir. 

** I play billiards ? ” said Mr. Arker. “ Ridicu- 
lous ! I couldn’t tell a billiard-cue from ' an ox- 
goad.** 


EXIT GOOCH. 


137 


“ Ah ! but here’s Mr. Leonard, Mr. Gooch, who 
keeps a fast horse. You know you’ve often ridden 
with him.” 

Mr. Gooch looked as if he would like to be well 
rid of him. 

*‘You mistake, sir,” said Mr. Leonard. “I never 
owned a horse in my life. I don’t like them. I 
prefer ‘ shank’s mare.’ ” 

“ Well, well ! I certainly have made a mistake 
in supposing these were friends of yours. Let’s 
try Mr. Bond : he’s the man with whom you have 
often cracked a bottle of wine, I believe.” 

Mr. Gooch did not recognize him. 

“I drink wine.?” said Mr. Bond, turning pale. 
“Never! I neither touch, taste, nor handle the 
accursed stuff.” 

“ Well, gentlemen,” said Roy, I have been mis- 
taken ; but you must confess that you all have false 
keys to Messrs. Claggett, Bruce, & Co.’s safe and 
drawers.” 

Such a shout of indignation rose, and so threat- 
ening were the motions of the three employees of 
the house, that Roy ran behind a chair, and held 
up his hands deprecatingly. 

When the tumult had subsided, Roy apologized, 
and turned to Mr. Gooch, 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


I3S 

Well, Mr. Gooch, what have you to say ? ” 

“ This is a very unprofessional proceeding, and I 
wash my hands of the whole affair. I will have 
nothing further to do with the case;” and he 
strutted towards the door. Roy followed him. 

“Neither this case nor any other, sir, at your 
peril. You are a scoundrel and a cheat ; and, if you 
attempt to ply your infamous calling in New 
York, I will prefer a charge of false pretences, and 
prove it too, without swinging round the circle.” 

Mr. Gooch withdrew in wrath ; and the friends 
left passed a very pleasant evening in company 
with Mr. Claggett, who, heartily penitent for the 
part he had borne in the transaction, insisted upon 
placing the so long-buried treasure in Marcus’s 
hands, for the payment of Mr. Gooch’s expenses. 

The next day found Roy and Marcus en route 
for home. 


THE NEW GARDENER. 


139 


Cljapter "Eltiim. 

THE NEW GARDENER. 

ANCY NIPPER was in a very bad humor. 
Roy Manning, on his departure, fearing 
that his flower-beds and kitchen-garden, in 
which he took much pride and to whose cultivation 
he gave much attention, might suffer in his 
absence, had advertised for a gardener, leaving his 
wife to make a selection from the personal applica- 
tions for the situation. 

Roy had been gone a week, and might be ex- 
pected back any day ; and yet that morning Mrs. 
Manning had informed Nancy that she had en- 
gaged a man, and directed her to prepare a room 
at the top of the house for his occupancy. There- 
fore Nancy, as maids-of all-work are apt to do' when 
additional burdens are laid upon their shoulders, 
made herself unhappy in the contemplation of a 
large increase of the washing arid cooking duties. 




140 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


which was not enlivened by the prophetic vision of 
a pair of very heavy dirt-stained boots tramping 
over her clean stairs several times a day. 

Another man in the house ! ” she growled, as 
with no light hand she plied the duster in the 
sitting-room. “ As if there wasn’t enough work 
now ! Queer freaks Mr. Manning has. He turns 
Mr. Graves out of doors, and then starts off West 
to bring him back. Couldn’t have been because 
Miss Bess was pining away, because she isn’t. 
Her appetite is good ; and* when love don’t affect 
that, there’s no use in worrying. She’s just as 
happy riding about all day with Matt Winsor' as 
she was with the other. Queer freak about him 
too. Took him in here three months ago, a 
drunken tramp ; and now he’s as spruce and clean 
and shiny as our copper boiler, — and so jolly and 
pleasant too, and so eager to help, one can’t help 
liking him. I’m sure Miss Bess does. Look out, 
Mr. Graves ! I wouldn’t give much for your chance 
three months from now if you leave the field to the 
tramp. But this last freak does beat all. A gar- 
dener! he’ll be hiring a minister or a coachman 
next, and then there’ll be no end of white cravats 
to wash and iron,” 


THE NEW GARDENER. 141 

Nancy’s soliloquy was cut short by the appear- 
ance of Mrs. Manning, who came in from the 
garden in gloves and apron, followed by the new 
gardener, bearing before him a potted geranium 
whose luxuriant foliage completely hid his face. 

You may place that geranium on the flower- 
stand,'” said May, indicating with her hand the 
position she wished it to occupy. 

The gardener turned his back to Nancy, who 
was looking at him curiously, placed the pot in the 
place designated, and busied himself re-arranging 
the flowers on the stand. 

That’s all I shall need at present, thank you,” 
she said, then turned to Nancy. Anybody been 
here, Nancy .^ ” 

No, marm,” said Nancy shortly ; “ Mr. Man- 
ning hasn’t come.” 

May laughed. 

“ Had I meant him, I should not have said ‘ any- 
body,’ for he’s everybody to me.” 

Well, then,” said Nancy, there -hasn’t been 
nobody here.” 

‘‘ That’s better, Nancy. I’ll run and get rid of 
my gloves and apron, for fear somebody might 
happen in ; ” and she left the room with a laugh. 


1.42 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Nancy looked after her. 

“ Poor thing ! she’s just as anxious to hear from 
her husband as she can be. I know the symptoms. 
There’s that good-for nothing Simon Stone. I’ve 
not seen him since he took to the candy business, 
but I’d just give all my old shoes to hear the sound 
of his voice once more.” 

The gardener exploded a terrific sneeze, so loud, 
so strong, that Nancy sprung into the air with a 
screech. 

“ Good gracious ! if you sneeze like that among 
the flowers, you’ll have every thing up by the roots. 
Look here, sir, that won’t do.” 

The gardener turned about. 

“ Why not, Nancy ? is it washing-day ? ” 

Nancy stared, not in dumb surprise, for the 
instant she saw the face, she cried, — 

“ Mercy ! it’s Simon Stone I ” 

“ It is, Nancy,” and Simon advanced with out- 
stretched arms, — “your Simon. Come to my 
arms.” 

Nancy thrust the duster straight out before her, 
so that Simon, in his impetuous haste to clasp her, 
found his face among the dusty feathers. 

“ Hands off, ” she said. 


THE NEW GARDENER. 


143 


Simon spit and sputtered. 

“ Phew ! pooh ! Nancy, do you want to stran- 
gle me ? ” 

“ I don’t mean you shall strangle me. What 
are you doing here } ” 

Humbly but earnestly, I trust, about my busi- 
ness,” Simon answered meekly, as he extracted a 
small feather from his eye. 

The candy business ? ” queried Nancy with a 
sneer. 

“ No, Nancy : the saccharine and treacle ele- 
ments are eliminated from my existence.” 

“ What’s the meaning of that outlandish stuff ? 
Can’t you speak English ? ” 

' “ Yes : I’ve cut the sugar and molasses. In that 
line I burned to distinguish myself ; but I burnt 
too much candy in trying to do it. So my em- 
ployer requested me to cut stick.” 

“ Sticks of candy ? ” 

No, no, myself, — leave, vamoose.” 

“ Oh ! you were discharged.” 

“ Yes : I went off, and became a policeman.” 

A policeman ! ” said Nancy sternly. “Simon, 
I always told you you would come to some bad 
end.” 


144 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Well, the end of my career in that line was 
rather bad. Oh! but, Nancy, you should have 
seen me in my uniform, brass buttons and shield ; 
you would have been proud of me, had you seen me 
on my beat with my billy.” 

‘‘ Billy who } ” inquired Nancy. 

“ Oh, Nancy, what ignorance I my weapon of 
defence ; the stick with which I terrified old apple- 
women and young newsboys.” 

“ I don’t think you needed any stick but your- 
self to frighten them.” 

“ Nancy, I was a hero on parade ; but, when it 
came to stepping into a row, I must say I felt more 
like knocking under than knocking over. In fact, 
my conscience became very tender on that point 
one night, on having my billy takenr away from me 
by a burly butcher, and being impressed — yes, 
several times impressed — with its hardness, as he 
whacked nie over the head with it. The situation 
struck me so forcibly, to say nothing of the billy, I 
quietly resigned my office, and retired to the hum- 
ble but more healthy walks of life.” 

“ Well, Mr. Stone, what next ” said Nancy coldly, 
when Simon had concluded. 

“ Mr. Stone ! ” repeated Simon in faint accents. 


THE NEW GARDENER. 


145 


Nancy, don’t be hard on me : call me Simon, 
pure Simon, simple Simon, do. O Nancy, you 
are my life, my love ! Do come to my arms ! ” 
And Simon made another impassioned rush — 
upon the duster. 

** Stand back,” said Nancy. “ I prefer my own 
arms.” 

“ Ah"Choh ! ” sneezed Simon, “ you’ll smother me 
with dust.” 

“And serve you right. Now behave yourself, 
and go on with your next occupation.” 

“ In which I now am, — the honorable profession 
which our first great ancestor won renown.” 

“ By sticking to it, which you will never do.” 

“And yet for love of you, cruel Nancy, I’ve 
sought this lowly occupation. ‘The Lady of 
Lyons ’ inspired me.” 

“ Who’s she ? one of the candy-girls } ” 

“ Candy-girls ! ” in a tone of disgust. “ Nancy, 
have you forgotten the play ” 

“ Oh ! she was one of the young women in 
spangles, that went in among the lions at the mena- 
gerie. Pretty lady she was,” with a disdainful toss 
of the head. 

“ Nancy, I blush for you.” 


146 


S 02 AETHING BETTER. 


“ Well, I blushed for her,” said Nancy coolly. 
“ She had no chance herself, with such daubs on 
her face.” 

“ Nancy, you're wrong. ‘ The Lady of Lyons ' 
is a play in which a gardener, Claude somebody, 
falls in love with a beautiful lady. I went, to see 
it, Nancy ; and the way that young feller made 
love was amazing. You’d never believe he knew 
any thing about rutabagas and cabbages. It give 
me an idea, Nancy. Says I, ‘ Simon, woo Nancy 
in that particular metre when you meet her, and 
victory is yours.’ ” 

Here Simon struck an attitude. 

** Nancy, I mean Pauline, bright angels have 
fallen ere thy time ” — 

Nancy interrupted the harangue by bringing her 
duster upon Simon’s head and shoulders with em- 
phatic but uncomfortable earnestness. 

“ You saucy scamp ! what do you mean } ” 

Stop ! don’t ! quit ! ” cried Simon, placing him- 
self behind the table.. “ That’s what the feller said 
in the play, — Claude, you know.”' 

“ Don’t you ever use such language to me ! If 
you do. I’ll scald you.” 

“ Now don’t let you and I get into hot water 


THE NEW GARDENER. 


147 


because we are under the same roof. You shall 
have the prettiest flowers, Nancy, in the garden, if 
you will only smile upon me. O Nancy ! if thou 
wouldst have me paint the home ” — 

“ Paint, iildeed ! Are you going to be a painter 
now ? ” 

“ No, Nancy ; that’s what Claude said.” 

“ Bother Claude ! Stick to gardening for six 
months, and I’ll marry you.” 

“ Will you ? ” shouted the delighted Simon. 
“ Then I’ll stick to it forever. Nancy, seal the bar- 
gain with a kiss.” He advanced to receive it, but 
the duster was again in the way. 

“ Some other time,” said Nancy. “ Now quit your 
nonsense, and tell me, where’s Marcus Graves ? ” 

“ The young man has gone West.” 

** And you know nothing about him ” 

‘‘ Haven’t heard a word from him. By the way, 
Nancy, who’s that gent that sticks so close to Miss 
Bessie * 

“You’d never guess, Simon. That’s the very 
identical tramp that stopped here three months 
ago, the very day you called.” 

“ Yes, washing-day. I met him on the road. 
You must have given him a scrubbing. He had 


148 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


something to do with Marcus’s departure, didn’t 
he?” 

Every thing. He said he was a thief or a de- 
faulter, or something ; and so Mr. Manning turned 
Mr. Graves out of his house. You see, he was Mr. 
Manning’s comrade in the war ; and he thinks* the 
world of him.” 

“ And he accused Marc, the noblest fellow I ever 
met. I’d like to get even with him for that.^ Is he 
married ? ” 

“ No ; but I shouldn’t wonder if he and Miss Bess 
made a match of it.” 

'' Poor Marc ! ” said Bess. “ What’s the fellow’s 
name ? ” 

Matt Winsor.” 

Matt ! Matt ! ” said Simon with a curiojus stare 
at Nancy. Stop a minute.” He thrust his hand 
into his pocket, drew forth a memorandum-book, 
and turned the leaves rapidly. 

“ H, I, J, K, L, M. Here it is, — Matt Winsor. 
Ha, ha ! Ho, ho ! I’ve got him, I’ve got him ! ” 
And Simon, clasping his arms, fairly hugged him- 
self as he chuckled and laughed at his discovery. 

‘‘And what’s all that for, Simon ? ” said Nancy. 

Simon struck the book smartly. 


THE NEW GARDENER. 


149 


“That, Nancy, is my savings bank, — little bits 
of information that as a policeman I picked up and 
preserved for future use. Nancy, look at me. Tm 
going to astonish you. So the tramp’s sweet on 
Miss Bessie, is he ? Ho, ho ! I’ll astonish him. 
Th» whole world shall be astonished.” 

Once more he struck a dramatic attitude, not 
very graceful but energetic. 

“ And thou, Pauline, so wildly loved, so guiltily 
betrayed, — all is not lost. If I live, the name of 
him thou hast once loved shall not be dishonored ; 
if I die amidst the carnage and the roar of battle, 
my soul shall fly back to thee.” 

Simon’s flight was interrupted, as he endeavored 
to clasp Nancy, by another onslaught of the duster. 

“ What are you talking about ? ” said Nancy. 

That’s what he said,* — Claude, you know.” 

“ No, I don’t want to know him.” 

“ Hush,” said Simon, looking about mysteriously. 
“ Nancy, can you keep a secret ? ” 

“ Try me,” answered Nancy. 

“ Without opening your lips ? ” 

“Try me.” 

Simon threw his arms about her, imprisoning 
hers. “ Then keep that, Nancy.” He imprinted a 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


150 

smacking kiss upon her lips, and then darted out 
of doors. 

Nancy, on recovering from her surprise, was 
about to dart after him with uplifted duster, but, 
thinking better of it, wiped her mouth with her 
apron. • 

“ Well, this is a new business to him, and I hope 
he’ll stick to it.” 


Cri)apter Etoelbe* 

ROY’S WIFE. 

URING her husband’s absence, the speck 
of trouble which floated into May Man- 
ning’s domestic happiness through the evi- 
dent fondness of Matt fbr Bessie’s society, had by 
constant nursing broadened into a lowering cloud, 
threatening disaster to her fondest hopes. Often 
she reasoned with herself, placing what might be 
in its fairest light, and battling her objections with 
a determined purpose to give Matt Winsor the 
benefit of all advantages he might possess as a 
suitor. 

If three months had transformed a miserable 
outcast into a passable gentleman, what capabilities 
for something better, nobler, and higher might not 
that man possess ? On the score of disparity of 
ages, she had no grounds of complaint, since Roy 
and she had mated under almost similar circum- 



152 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


stances ; and if he loved Bess, and Bess returned 
his love, what right had she to step between her 
darling and her happiness ? There were twinges 
of pride as she thought of an alliance with a re- 
deemed tramp, touches of jealousy as she remem- 
bered Roy’s regard for this man, and many other 
womanly foibles which crept into her retrospection, 
and which counted as nothing, since one throb of 
her honest heart could sweep them all away. She 
set the man before her, — earnest, worthy of regard 
for his battle with himself, gentle, obliging, win- 
ning all their hearts, magnetizing herself with a 
nameless something for which she could not ac- 
count ; reasoned, argued, reviewed, twenty times a 
day ; and always came to one conclusion, — he 
must not marry Bess. 

This was the burden of her thoughts, when a 
clear, ringing voice interrupted her meditations. 

Ha, ha, ha ! fairly beaten ! Victory, victory ! 
and swinging her riding-hat about her head, with 
tresses flying, flushed cheeks, and glowing eyes, 
Bess burst into the room. 

“ O May ! such a glorious victory ! I’ve dis- 
tanced the bold cavalryman on a clear stretch of 
five miles.” 


ROYS WIFE. 


153 


Away went riding-whip clattering against the 
mantle, the dainty cap and feathers flew from her 
hand, and laughing merrily the little maid fluttered 
down upon the floor at May’s feet. 

“ Cleverly done, little one : I tried my best, but 
for once you have fairly beaten me.” 

Matt Winsor entered as he spoke, — a tall, com- 
manding figure, straight and well proportioned, in 
long cavalry boots, his collar thrown over a black 
velveteen cut-away coat; the long tangled beard 
removed from his chin, leaving a pair of magnifi- 
cent gray side-whiskers of English cut ; the purple 
bloat faded out of his face, leaving it ruddy and 
wholesome. Such was Matt Winsor after three 
months of healthy existence. 

“ Ah, Roy’s wife ! The little one is a capital 
horseman. If ever I go to war again, she shall be 
enlisted in the same company.” 

There was admiration in the look he bestowed 
upon his little comrade ; something more, which 
May was not slow to catch, and interpret after 
her suspicious fashion. • 

“ Not I,” said Bess, with a careless toss of her 
head. There’s better company at home. Only 
think of it, May! Roger beat Rollo, fairly out- 


154 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Stripped him. He never did such a thing be- 
fore.” 

“The gallant fellow knew the soft caress of a 
pretty little hand would reward his efforts,” said 
Matt. “ Who wouldn’t do his best for that ? ” 

“And another gallant fellow was too polite to 
snatch victory from these pretty hands,” said May, 
and then bit her lips for their assurance. She had 
tried to be very cool with Matt, that by her man- 
ner he might see she was offended with his pre- 
sumption ; but he never saw it, and had such a 
hearty way of speaking, that, spite her efforts to 
the contrary, she always answered in the same 
strain. It was very provoking, but she couldn’t 
help it. 

“ No, no,” said Matt ; “ no favor was shown.” 

“ Not a bit,” said Bess. “ You should have heard 
our cavalryman shout, and seen him ply his whip. 
Mercy ! I thought a troop of horse was coming 
down upon me.” 

Matt laughed a clear, ringing laugh, that was 
good to hear. 

“Yes, I was a little noisy, I confess. For a 
moment the old feeling was upon me. The swift 
pace made my blood whirl. I saw before me not 


ROYS WIFE. 


15s 


you, little one, but the enemy in line of battle. The 
roar of cannon filled my ears ; the smoke of battle, 
my nostrils. The old cry came to my lips : ‘ Down 
on them ! Death to the foe ! Charge ! ’ ” and 
Matt, eager, inspired, fairly roared the “ Charge ! ” 
and strode across the floor. 

“ Goodness gracious ! what a noise ! ” said Bess. 

Matt recovered himself instantly, and colored 
with confusion. 

“ I beg your pardon. I hope I didn’t swear.” 

“ Make your mind easy,” said Bess. “ With the 
discharge of that terrific ^ Charge,’ there could be 
need for nothing more explosive.” 

“ It’s hard for a dog to forget his tricks,” said 
Matt with a sigh. “ I wish I could mine. I’m a 
rough fellow at the best. It’s a new life for me, 
here in this quiet home ; you so kind and thought- 
ful, Roy’s friendship — no, no, that’s not new ; 
Heaven bless him ! he’s the same old comrade of 
the battle-days.” 

His voice shook, and he brushed his hand across 
his eyes. 

“ I know I must be in the way here.” 

Bess sprung to her feet. 

“ You are the best old fellow in the world,” she 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


156 

said, looking into his face, and placing her little 
hands in his broad palms; “and I love you dearly.” 

May winced. Such encouragement must bring 
the confession she feared to hear. But Matt 
clasped the little hands, and looked tenderly into 
the blue eyes raised to him, with a queer smile on 
his face. 

“ Love me ? ” he said softly. 

“Yes, as if you were my own brother. There, 
sir, there’s a confession ; make the most of it.” 
She snatched her hand away, and went dancing to 
the piano. 

“I wish I deserved it, little one,” Matt said 
softly, following her with his eyes, in which there 
were tears. He brushed them away, and turned 
quickly to May, so quick that he caught her look 
fastened upon his face, — a look he had never seen 
there before. It confused him. 

“ Any news of Roy, Mrs. May } ” he said quickly. 

“No,” answered May coldly. “I hoped you 
might have been to the office.” 

“To be sure,” said Matt ;*“and I galloping after 
this young will-o’-the-wisp ! It’s shameful ; but I’ll 
go at once. If we only had Roy back, what a jolly 
day this would be! You sha’n’t wait long, Roy’s 
wife. — Good-by, little one.” 


Roy's wife. 


157 


He went out of the door, but Bess called him back. 
*‘l challenge you to another race tomorrow 
morning,” said she. 

Oh, I accept ! ” said Matt with a laugh. 

*‘Five miles.” 

“Yes, a straight course.” 

“ Mind, no favor.” 

“ All right. Shake hands on it.” 

Bess gave her hand : he shook it heartily. 

“Roy’s wife, you hear: you shall be our referee.” 

“ Now to the post-office,” cried Bess. “ Charge ! ” 
“ Ay,” replied Matt with a wave of his hand, — 
“ charge for liberty or ” — 

“ A letter,” interrupted Bess. “ Don’t forget 
the letter.” 

“ All right, little one. I’m off.” 

He went away whistling merrily, “ Roy’s Wife,” 
the Scotch air which had suggested the favorite 
title he had conferred upon May. 4 

Bess looked after him a moment. 

“ Isn’t he splendid. May ? I never saw a man I 
liked so well.” 

“ Have you forgotten Marcus Graves, Bess ? ” 
Bess looked at May curiously. She was bending 
over her work. 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


158 

‘‘ Eh ! ” she said coolly. Hasn’t he forgotten 
me ? ” 

I think not. At any time we may have news 
of him,” said May, looking sharply at Bess. ‘‘You 
know Roy is now seeking him,” with emphasis, 
“ for your sake.” 

“Now, I wonder what’s the matter with her,” 
thought Bess ; but she only said coolly, “ He’s very 
kind.” 

“This man. Matt* Winsor, caused his dismissal, 
you know.” 

“Poor fellow! he didn’t mean any harm; and 
I’m sure it was for the best.” 

This last sentence was spoken so very carelessly, 
that May was provoked. 

“Suppose he should never return,”- she said 
angrily. 

“ Well, then, I should try and make the best of 
it,” said Bess unconcernedly, proceeding to pick 
up her whip and hat. 

“ Bess, do you know this man loves you ^ ” 

“ Marcus Graves ? Well, he ought to.” 

“ I am not speaking of him ; the other, — Matt 
Winsor.” 

‘'Ho, ho!” thought Bess: “the cat’s out of the 


ROY’S WIFE. 


159 


bag. — You don’t mean it, May. Has he told you 
so.?” 

“ No ; but I read it in every glance of his eye, 
every flush of his cheek. O Bess, Bess ! you must 
not encourage this.” 

Encourage .? I — Well, I never ! ” and Bess 
laughed heartily. “ Didn’t I tell him I loved him 
as a brother .? ” 

“ Suppose he should some day tell you he adored 
you .? ” 

“ ’Twould be just like him,” said the little coquette 
saucily. “ Soldiers adore ; civilians love. I prefer 
adoration : it’s a longer word, and of course contains 
more of the language of love.” 

VBess, you are provoking. Suppose Jie should 
ask you to marry him .? ” 

“ Suppose, suppose any thing you like. Fm^ 
going to change my dress,” returned Bess, gather- 
ing up her riding-habit. 

“ And you withhold from me your confidence. 
Bess, this is not right.” 

“ May, don’t lecture me. Do let me enjoy my- 
self. ’Tis time to warn when the grub brother 
turns into the butterfly lover ; ” and she darted 
from the room, saying to herself with an angry toss 


l6o SOMETHING BETTER. 

of her pretty little head, “ She dares to doubt my 
love for Marcus : I’ll plague her well for that.” 

May, left to herself, bitterly rebuked the suspi- 
cious spirit that had caused her to broach this un- 
happy subject before the return of Roy. She felt 
her best course would have been to have awaited 
his return : if he brought Marcus back, the sight 
of her long-absent lover might turn the giddy girl’s 
heart back to its old attraction ; but now her hasty 
action might precipitate the very evil she was so 
anxious to ward off. 

“ He must not have my Bess,” she cried bitterly. 

There’s too much at stake. An accident might 
arouse the slumbering curse of his former life, and 
then what a fate would be hers ! She must be 
saved from that, though I make an enemy of my 
husband’s comrade.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Mrs. Manning.” Simon 
Stone was standing in the doorway, bowing, and 
twirling his hat. 

Well, what is it ? Any thing the matter in the 
garden } ” 

‘‘ No, every thing is flourishing there. I’ve weeded 
out all that’s unsightly and unwholesome.” He 
came nearer, and whispered, There’s something 
wrong here in the house.” 


Roy’s wife. 


i6i 


“In the house ! what do you mean ? ” 

“ Mrs. Manning, gardening has “not been the sole 
occupation of my life. Before I entered your ser- 
vice I was a policeman.” 

“Well.?” 

“ Now, a policeman picks up a great many things 
in the course of his experience ; and in my short 
career I have gained a bit of information that may 
be useful to you.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“ Will you patiently listen to me for a few mo- 
ments.” 

“Certainly, if you wish it.” 

Simon with a preparatory “ Hem,” and a slight 
air of importance, proceeded, — 

“Mrs. Manning, I was a short time ago one of 
the humble instruments that rescued an unfortu- 
nate woman from the beastly brutality of a ruffian. 
I say one : the other was my billy. She was a poor 
fallen creature, who in a drunken brawl was cru- 
elly beaten. As I said, we rescued her in an almost 
dying condition. She was taken to Bellevue Hos- 
pital. As this was the only real service I performed 
during my brief career, I was interested in her 
case, and frequently called to see her. I was told 


i 62 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


she could not live. In the kindest manner possi- 
ble for a policeman, I informed her of the fact. In 
return she told me she was a wife and a mother, 
that her husband still lived.” 

“ I do not understand how this can interest me,” 
said May. “ I pity the poor woman. Can I help 
her .? ” 

“ You can help me to find her husband.” 

I ? ” 

“Yes, for you know him. She gave me his 
name, — Matt Winsor.” 

May started. That name connected with this 
startling story ! 

“Matt Winsor.^ Impossible! He has told me 
he has no wife.” 

“ Then he’s a villain,” cried Simon indignantly. 
“ I have told you all I know. The woman is ‘dying. 
Let him know this, and if he denies her” — 

“ Why have you told me this ? ” 

“ Because he wronged my friend Marcus Graves, 
— drove him from this house. I want to see him 
treated as he treated Marcus.” 

“Enough: you may go,” said May coldly. 

Simon with a bow turned away ; but, ere he 
reached the door, she called him back. 


ROYS WIFE. 


163 

“ Stay : I may want to speak with you again.” 

Simon stepped to the window, and busied him- 
self plucking withered leaves from the plants. 

May was startled. Already wrought to a high 
pitch of excitement by her interview with Bess, 
the strange story she had heard came at a moment 
when she was poorly prepared with cool judgment 
to consider its truthfulness. She admitted it with- 
out a thought that its narrator was a stranger, who 
by his own admission had an old grudge to settle. 
In calmer moments she would be likely to con- 
sider how and why it came ; but now her only 
thought was, that here was an opportunity to save 
Bess. She would drive him from the house. Such 
a wretch deserved no pity. She would fling his 
perfidy in his teeth. He dared to love Bess, and 
she hkd the power to save the girl. Unfortunately, 
ere passion had time to cool, or reason opportunity 
to assert its sway-, the voice of Simon interrupted 
her brooding : — 

“He is here.” 

May muttered between her clinched teeth, — 

“ For the last time, I am determined.” 


164 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Cljapter 2rj)irteen. 

QUITS. 

ATT dashed into the room in the best of 
humor, wiping the perspiration from his 
face, and panting from the exertion with 
which his brisk walk had tested his burly frame. 

“ No letter, Roy’s wife ; and that’s the best news 
I could bring. As he has not written, ’tis a proof 
he’s on the road home. Dear old boy! How glad 
we shall all be to see him 1 ” 

There was no response to this hearty outburst ; 
and Matt for the first time noticed the rigidity of 
the figure before him, and the sternness, almost 
fierceness, of the eyes fastened upon him. 

‘‘ What’s the matter ? are you ill ? ” 

“ When a spy is caught in the enemy’s camp, 
what is done with him ” asked May with the 
sternness of a judge. 

Matt on the instant replied, — 



“He’s strung to a tree, without judge or jury.” 

“When a rogue is caught playing the honest 
man in a peaceful, loving family, what should be 
his fate J ” 

The answer was prompt and earnest : — 

“ He should be turned adrift, and shunned for- 
evermore.” 

“Right,” returned May, rising. “You have 
sentenced yourself. This house is no longer your 
home.” 

Matt started as though he had been stung. The 
tone was so fierce, the words so pointed, there 
could be no doubt of their intention. He was to 
be turned adrift. 

No longer — my home ” — he faltered : “ why, 
what is this ? ” 

“ Matt Winsor, listen to me. You entered this • 
house a miserable drunken vagabond.” Bess 
entered the room, and stood dismayed ; but May 
neither saw nor felt her presence. “ You were ten- 
derly cared for, because you were our Roy’s com- 
rade. We trusted you, confided in you ; and you — 
like a viper — turned and stung the hand that fed 
you.” 

“No, no, ’tis false,” Matt returned fiercely. /‘I 
have repaid trust with trust,” 


i66 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“ Indeed ! as you repaid the trust of that poor 
woman now dying in Bellevue Hospital, your wife.” 

Matt staggered to the mantle, clutched it as if 
to save himself from falling, and glanced at May. 

My wife, — my wife,” he groaned. 

“ Ah ! your agitation is confession,” May con- 
tinued. ‘'And yet you told me you had no wife. 
Wretch ! you dare not face my husband’s flashing 
eye with this infamy known to him. You drove a 
noble fellow away by your accusations. Think you 
Roy, who could not bear his presence, will suffer a 
greater criminal to rest beneath his roof.? And 
what greater criminal can there be than he who 
deserts his wife, his trusting wife .? ” 

Matt was clinging to the mantle, every vestige 
of color faded from his face, trembling as if beneath 
the weight of a blow too terrible to bear. If May 
had searched the story of his life from birth until 
now, she could have found no sharper instrument 
of torture than that one little word “ wife.” 

“Stop, stop!” he almost shrieked. “You must 
not make me hate you ; for you are Roy’s wife, 
my friend’s wife. Taunt me not. I will go out 
into the cold world once more. It’s only a step, 
and I am the outcast, the tramp, again.” 


9 UITS. 


167 


Bess ran to him, and flung her arms about his 
neck. 

No, no, you must not go ! Roy will soon 
return.” 

“ Let him face him if he dare,” said May, casting 
one glance of ^corn at the poor wretch as she 
turned away. 

Matt smiled sadly. 

Fear not : I will not face him.” 

' He gently unclasped the loving arms from his 
neck, and looked tenderly into the face raised to 
his. 

told you, Bess, I was not wanted here. I 
have come between man and wife. A part of the 
affection which should have been all hers has gone 
out to the man who, in auld lang syne, tried to be 
a true friend. Let it pass. For all your kindness 
to me, accept my thanks. I shall trouble you no 
more.” 

He strode towards the door. Bess flew after 
him. 

O Matt, don’t leave us ! ” 

Matt took the little hands extended to him in 
his, and kissed them. 

'‘It is right, little one. We have been very. 


i68 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


very happy, — too happy for so poor a wretch 
as I/’ 

Once more he turned to May. 

“ Roy’s wife, hear me before ! leave your house. 
I spoke the truth. I have no wife.” 

“ That’s a lie,” cried Simon Stone; “and I can 
prove it.” 

Matt turned fiercely upon the gardener. 

“ Ah, this is your work ! ” 

Simon folded his arms. “ I own it. There^s 
nothing shabby about me.” 

“ I spoke the truth,” said Matt ; and then with a 
groan, as if the effort to unearth a buried record 
were torture, he continued, “ I spoke the truth. 
Years ago I went to battle for my country, leaving 
at home my wife and child. Oh ! how I loved them, 
bitterly I knew when, returning from my first cam- 
paign, I found my wife had fled with my dearest 
friend, leaving our child to the care of strangers, 
who had taken her far, far away. In vain I sought 
her. She was gone. O Bess ! if you have found 
any tenderness in the rough soldier’s heart, thank 
this for it ; for out of grace and gentleness I had 
fashioned an image of my lost child, which y(;u 
rQsen;bled, little one.” 


quiTS. 


169 


Had Matt’s eyes been upon May at these words, 
he would have been startled at the change in her 
demeanor. In turn she trembled, a frightened look 
sprung to her face, and she turned to a chair. But 
his eyes were upon Bess : once more he pressed her 
hands to his lips. 

Heaven bless you. Heaven bless all beneath 
this roof ! and Heaven help the poor wanderer 
now ! ” 

O Matt, Matt, stay with us ! ” cried Bess. 

He shook his head sadly, and went out. 

May sprung to her feet. 

Matt, Matt, come back ! ” 

He turned, and looked at her. Had she re- 
pented ? " If so, it was too late. 

“ No,” he said : “ you have driven me out, as I 
drove out another. We are quits.” And he was 
gone. 

May sank back in her seat, and covered her face 
with her hands, these words ringing in her ears : 
** I had fashioned an image of my lost child, which 
you resembled.” 

She had raised the storm, it had burst upon her 
head. Fatal error ! How could she face Roy, 
when she had not now even the excuse of Bessie’s 


170 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


happiness, which had spurred her, to extenuate her 
hasty action ? 

She was roused by Bessie’s hand upon her shoul- 
der. 

O May ! how could you be so cruel ? ” 

“ I thought it was my duty, Bess.” 

What will Roy say ? ” 

What would he say ? that was of little moment ; 
how he would feel, every thing. He might load her 
with reproaches, accuse her of treachery, taunt her 
with cowardice. If he only would, she could bear 
it meekly, knowing she deserved all he might charge 
her with. But he would do nothing of the sort. 
He would hear her story calmly, smile upon her 
when she had finished, that not even she, his best 
beloved, might feel the pangs of self-accusation ; 
while his great noble heart was quivering with an- 
guish. She had struck at Matt, and wounded her 
husband. 

She buried her face in her arms flung upon the 
table, and wept. Bess, almost as miserable, crept 
away to a far corner, and sadly watched her. 

Simon, hardly knowing whether to go or stay, 
lingered in the window. It might have been fif- 
teen minutes, perhaps half an hour, when the mel- 


9UITS. 


I7I 

ancholy stillness was broken by the heavy tread of 
Nancy on the kitchen-stairs, followed by the ap- 
pearance of that buxom damsel in a high state of 
excitement. 

“ Here he is ! here’s Mr. Manning ! ” . 

Simultaneously with her announcement, a tall 
figure darkened the doorway. 

May, May ! at home at last.” 

She was in his arms in an instant, all forgotten 
save the joy of meeting him again. He clasped 
her warmly, seeing only in her tears the outgush 
of a tender heart, overjoyed at his return. 

‘‘ Bless you, sweet-heart ! It’s good to meet you 
once again.” 

The tears were in his eyes as well. He kissed 
her agaifi and again, then turned to Bess. 

“Ah, bonnie Bess, bright as ever! give me a 
kiss.” 

“ A dozen, you dear old fellow I ” and Bess in 
turn received the pressure of his strong arms. 

“ That’s sweet ; and in return I’ve brought you 
something nice.” 

“ Good news ? ” cried Bess with a hopeful look 
in her bright eyes. 

“In the original package,” cried Roy. “ Come 
in, Marcus.” 


172 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Marcus took his cue at once, and was among 
them. 

“ Bess, my darling ! ” 

“ O Marcus ! ” She rushed into his arms with- 
out ceremony, to find that true love is a “vise,” 
after all. 

“Yes,” said Roy after the lovers had “restored 
arms,” “we’ve had excellent luck, just at the last 
moment too. Marcus had about given up in de- 
spair, when the excellent but thick-headed senior 
partner of the concern happened to pull out a 
drawer in the safe, and there closely packed behind 
it were the missing bills. Marcus was a hero at 
once. I had hard work to bring him away. But 
here he is. — Ah, Nancy ! how are you ? ” 

“ Hearty, thank you, sir.” 

“ And this is my new gardener, I suppose,” Roy 
said as he caught sight of Simon. “ Well, how 
does the garden flourish ? ” 

“Splendidly, thank you, sir,” was Simon’s reply. 

Roy went back to his wife. 

“ And how has my little wife spent the dull 
days ? ” 

“Trying her best to kill time, and bring this 
happy day nearer.” 


qUITS. 


173 


I am rejoiced to find you looking so well, and 
— Where’s Matt ? he should be on hand to give 
his old comrade a merry welcome.” 

May’s heart gave a bound ; Bess, who was in the 
window chatting to Marcus, stopped short ; and for 
a moment silence fell upon all. 

Roy looked from one to another. 

How’s this ? Where is he ? Is he ill ^ ” 

May looked into her husband’s face, then cast 
down her eyes. He is gone, Roy,” she said 
faintly. 

Gone ? What ! left my house ” 

0 Roy ! ” cried May with an effort, “ he is un- 
worthy of your regard ; he has deceived us : he has 
a wife living.” 

Roy drew a heavy breath between his teeth, and 
bit his lip. 

Indeed ! how did you hear this } ” 

Simon Stone stepped forward. 

“ I was the humble instrument of his exposure.” 

Roy eyed him from head to foot with a cool, 
scornful look. 

Oh, you were ! ” 

1 was told by a poor dying woman that he was 
her husband ; and I thought it my duty to inionn 


174 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


MrsMVIanning of his duplicity. It was a painful 
task, sir, but I never shirk my duty. In that line 
there’s nothing shabby about me.” 

Indeed ! ” said Roy with a sneer. Then it 
is my duty to inform you that your services as a 
gardener will no longer be required here.” 

Simon slunk back crestfallen. “ Here’s grati- 
tude,” he muttered. 

Nancy caught him by the arm. “ Serves you 
right, Claude Meddlenot ! ” 

This was bad enough ; but the look which she 
gave him convinced him that hope was once more 
deferred, and consequently made his heart very, 
very sick. 

Roy once more turned to his wife. 

And so poor Matt, in shame, took himself off .? ” 

May shuddered : the truth must come out now. 

^‘No, Roy: you’re not quite right there,” she 
faltered ; for I — I drove him away.” 

She dared not look into his face ; but she felt the 
start he gave, knew his eyes were fastened on her 
face in dumb surprise. When after a long pause 
he spoke, it was in hollow tones. 

“ You, May ? — you drove from his home the man 
who once saved your husband’s life ? ” 


qUITS. 


17s 


I — I” — She looked up at him. His eyes 
were fastened upon her with a look she had never 
seen there before, — scorn, contempt, and bitter dis- 
appointment. Another such look would kill her ; 
and she sprang towards him to hide her face upon 
his bosom, that she might not see it again. 

‘‘Forgive me: I thought I was right.” 

He warned her back with an angry motion of his 
hand. 

“Don’t come near me. Drove my old friend 
out. Do you know what that means ? Disgrace 
for him, shame for me. He will die in the gutter. 
No, no, it shall not be ! I’ll not eat or sleep until 
I find him.” 

May flung herself upon his neck. “ O Roy, you 
will not leave me ! ’’ 

“For his sake, yes.” He gently unclasped her 
arms, and led her to a seat. “You have done a 
fearful wrong, as you will one day learn.” 

He turned away, and took his hat. 

“ My brave old comrade, you have struggled hard 
for a better life. Strike out, struggle on ! you 
shall not sink : I will save you yet.” 

With one parting look at his wife, he turned and 
went out. 


176 


SOMETHING BETTER. 




Cljapter jFourtEen. 

ON THE TRAMP AGAIN. 

with rapid strides crossed the garden 
g before his house, struck into the road, 

turned to the right, and went straight up 

the hill. There was a spot among the pines, half 
a mile from his residence, where Matt and he had 
passed many hours in the companionship of their 
pipes, and where he had sometimes found his friend 
alone, when after a longer absence than usual he 
had sought him. On such occasions Matt con- 
fessed he wandered there to smoke out the blues,” 
which attacked him when uneasy memory stirred 
up the bitterness of the past. Roy accepted the 
explanation in part. The recollection of his wasted 
life might sadden the old soldier at times ; but to 
his keen perception these frequent retreats meant 
something more. There was a thirsty appetite 
continually clamoring to be set free, and an earnest 


ON THE TRAMP AGAIN. 


177 


man fighting with all his strength to keep it bound ; 
and here in the solitude of the pines was the bat- 
tle-field. All honor to the man who fought and 
won ! 

Roy knowing all this, and feeling that the events 
of the day must have greatly moved him, expected 
to find him at their camp among the pines. He 
was mistaken. 

Matt Winsor, on quitting the house, took the 
opposite direction, and went down the hill, with 
one thought urging him on, — to get back into the 
old life in the quickest manner possible. The un- 
earthing of the long-buried trouble had roused all 
the strong passions of the man. Under Roy’s 
roof he had controlled himself in a measure ; but 
out in the open air, as he remembered the source 
from which the blow that had humbled him came, 
he was mad with rage. Not at what Roy’s wife 
had done was he indignant. He pitied her, believ- 
ing that a jealous spirit had prompted her. It was 
the other, — a woman who had been false to him, 
to her child, to purity, to every noble sentiment ; 
a woman who had disgraced his name, and driven 
him to the lowest depths of wretchedness ; who 
now, when he had crawled out, stood in his path to 
drive him back. 


178 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


He strode on, grinding his teeth, cursing her, 
hin)sel£, and all the world, a wicked, vindictive 
spirit in full possession. Driven out, he was going 
straight back to the shameful life he had forsaken, 
with a savage joy that he was under no obligation 
now to restrain his appetite. He had money in 
his pocket : while it lasted he would swim in liq- 
uor ; when it was gone, he would be his old self 
again, ready to wander, to beg, to starve. 

He was at the foot of the hill, — the fount of for- 
getfulness, Sandy McClosky’s groggery, in sight, 
— when the remembrance of his compact with his 
old comrade, on the morning of his awakening to 
the new life, suddenly turned the current of his 
angry mood. He stopped, stepped from the road, 
and unconsciously fell into the position against 
the fence, in which Marcus Graves, riding by six 
months before, had found him. 

All came back to him then, — the meeting, the 
parley, and what had come of it. That was the 
last time he had crossed Sandy McClosky’s thresh- 
old. He, had made a vow tc himself, he would 
never go there again. For Roy’s sake he had 
made it, and for his sake he had kept it. Yet now 
he was going back to forget all, — the friendship 


ON THE TRAMP AGAIN. 


179 


that had reclaimed him, the loving kindness that 
comforted him, the warm sympathy that had sus- 
tained him. Was it any the less unmanly now ? 
Roy had not turned against him ; in his heart he 
felt, that, had Roy been at home, this would not 
have occurred. Had he any right to wound the 
friend that had taken no part in his disgrace ? 

No, no ! he could not do it. He resolutely 
turned his face away from the temptation, for Roy’s 
sake, not realizing that his own better nature from 
its association with higher surroundings had ac- 
quired a distaste for misery, and would not with- 
out a struggle allow him to sink back into the 
sloughs of wretchedness. 

But what was he to do ? He must place him- 
self far away from any chance of meeting Roy. 
Now that the story of shame, which he had care- 
fully concealed from his comrade, was known, their 
friendship was at an end. His own part in its con- 
cealment had broken that. Roy, of all others, 
should have had his confidence ; and he had been 
false, miserably, cowardly false. No, no ! they 
must never meet again. But how could he escape 
him ? If he did not return to the old life, who 
would give him a helping hand ? 


i8o 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


The brand was upon him still. Far and wide 
h^d been his wanderings. He was known as a 
tramp : he would be shunned. How could he live ? 

Live ? why should he live ? Life had no bright- 
ness for him now. Better end it, and blot out for- 
ever the disgrace that followed him. 

This was a new thought to him ; and, as he pon- 
dered, he wondered why it had never occurred to 
him before, — such an easy solution of all difficul- 
ties, always within his reach, and yet unheeded. 
He had sought death at the hands of others, and 
all the while it was in his own keeping. His own 
hand should set him free. 

His eyes fell upon the water gliding softly along, 
a few rods away, only a fence and a field between it 
and him ; and beyond, oblivion. He strode across 
the road, sprang over the fence, and with a few 
rapid strides was at the river. The current was 
rapid, but the water was low ; and as he stood upon 
the bank, and looked down into it, it seemed but 
a shallow grave in which to lay his burly form. 

He looked about him. The sun had fallen 
behind the hills : dusk was creeping over the river. 
There was no one in sight. He would never have 
a better opportunity. But how could he keep his 
body ^beneath the water until life was gone ? 


ON THE TRAMP AGAIN. l8l 

Opposite him, twenty feet away, the sharp point 
of a rock just touched the surface of the water, 
parting the streatn, which dashed and frothed 
about it. As he looked at it steadily he could see 
that the water had beaten into it beneath, so that 
the rocky point had become a crook. This might 
serve his purpose. 

He took from his pocket a handkerchief, bound 
it about his wrists, and with his teeth securely fas- 
tened it. His hands were tied. Then stepping 
into the water, he made his way to the rock. 
There he was waist deep. He stooped, and passed 
his fettered hands over the rock. In an instant 
the swift water took his feet from under him, and 
his whole body was beneath the surface. There 
was no escape now. Struggle* ever so hard with 
the instinct of self-preservation, he was doomed. 
And he did struggle. The moment he felt his feet 
slipping, he repented, tried to release his hands. 
Too late ! The water gurgled about him. All the 
sensations he had ever heard that drowning men 
experience were realized. He noted them as they 
came. The shame, the battle-field, Roy’s friend- 
ship, all the events of his wayward life, — quick 
and fast they came and went. And then he felt 


i 82 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


) some power lifting him above the water, and 
thought the end had come. And then he knew 
nothing. 

Only a moment, and through misty gloom, and 
with torturing struggles, he was back again into 
the life he had tried to escape ; lying upon the 
grass beside the grave in which he had sought to 
hide himself. 

He had failed, — miserably failed : that was his 
first thought. And the man who had thwarted his 
purpose was bending over him, — Simon Stone.- 

He was untying the handkerchief that bound 
Matt’s hands, when the rescued man’s eyes opened. 

“ Ah, old fellow ! You’re all right now. It was a 
mighty cunning trick. Don’t believe I could have 
managed it better, but it was shabby.” 

You’re the man that made the trouble, ain’t 
you } ” said Matt with an angry flush. 

‘‘ Yes, I’m the man that meddled. I was mighty 
sor^y that I did, when I heard your story. But 
you see. I’ve tried to make amends by getting you 
away from that ugly rock yonder.” 

^‘Yes, meddled again,” said Matt with a sneer. 

“ Well, p’raps I did, and p’raps I didn’t. That 
depends upon how you and I look at it. You were 
trying to drown yourself.” 


ON THE TRAMP AGAIN. 


183 

“ That’s exactly what I was trying to do,” said 
Matt coolly ; and I like it so well, that when you 
are out of the way, I shall try again.” 

“ Exactly,” returned Simon as coolly. “ I knew 
you had been a tramp, but I had no idea you were 
a thief.” 

Thief!” Matt staggered to his feet “You 
lie ! ” 

“ Thank you. I like plain talk. But you’re 
wrong. I spoke the truth. You are not only a 
thief, but a coward. ” Simon was on his feet now ; 
just in time, for Matt’s hands were at his throat. 
He dashed them away. 

“None of that,” he said. “You’re not in trim; 
and I’ve not only been a policeman in my time, 
but a teacher of the manly art, as well. You’d get 
hurt.” 

Matt eyed him sharply. There was not a vest- 
ige of fear in his honest face, and the tones of his 
voice were calm and full. He felt a little ashamed 
of his precipitancy. 

“You dragged me from the water. I ought to 
be grateful, I suppose ; but I’m not. I didn’t want 
my life saved.*” 

“ I know it. God gave you life to cherish, to re- 


184 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


turn to him when he called for it. You’re weary 
of the burden, afraid to struggle on with it, and so 
try to rob him of his right to take it back at his 
pleasure. If that don’t make you a coward and a 
thief, you have the right to call me a liar. Preach- 
ing is not much in my line ; but that’s truth.” 

Matt bit his lips. Pie was humbled. 

“ I thank you for saving my life,” he said gently, 
*^and for the truth you have spoken.” 

“That’s all right,” said Simon, with a laugh. 
“You know I am turned out too, up there. I was 
on my way down, with my bundle on my back, 
when I saw you walking into the water. I knew 
you at once ; and, when I saw you stoop over that 
rock, I knew just what you *were about. So, get- 
ting the bearings of the case, I was on hand in 
time. Now, old fellow, what can I do for you ? ” 

“ Nothing,” said Matt with a sigh. “ I’ve a little 
money, and can take care of myself for a while. 
When that is gone, God knows what will become 
of me.” 

“ Mr. Manning is searching for you.” 

“ Plas he returned } ” said Matt quickly. 

“Yes, — not an hour after you left, and is now 
out searching for you.” 


ON THE TRAMP AGAIN. 185 

He must not find me. I can not, will not, 
meet him.’’ 

“Then come with me. I’ll share my quarters 
with you until something turns up.” 

“With you ? I should only be a burden.” 

“I’ll risk it. You’re shivering, old fellow: we 
must get away. A brisk walk to the station will 
do us both good. Come.” 

Matt hesitated. There was no mistaking the 
heartiness of the offer. He had no plans for the 
future. He was touched by the interest which 
Simon evinced in his welfare, and for that reason 
hesitated. Already under deep obligations to a 
stranger, a feeling of independence, new to him, 
prompted him to decline, and make his way alone. 

“ Thank you : we had better part here. I’ll find 
comfortable quarters somewhere, never fear. Good- 
night.” 

But this did not suit Simon’s purpose. He was 
not altogether unselfish in his desire to keep Matt 
under his eye. Mr. Manning wanted him ; and, if 
he could be the instrument of communication be- 
tween them, he would necessarily be brought into 
the presence of Nancy. 

“No,” he said, “I shall not say good-night. 


i86 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


You must go with me. I’ve capital quarters, 
which you shall share, and in which you can do 
me a service.” 

“ I } ” said Matt : what service } ” 

“ There is a poor woman dying at the hos- 
pital ” — 

With an angry oath Matt turned, and strode 
away. Simon ran after him, and seized his arm. 

Listen to me. You owe me that much at least.” 

Not when you speak of that woman,” returned 
Matt with blazing eyes. ‘‘ She has been the curse 
of my life. To rid myself of the thought of her, 
I sought a grave in yonder river ; and now when I 
come back to life ' she appears again. O man, 
man ! better you had left me to my fate ! ” 

“ She’ll not torment you much longer : her hours 
are numbered. Do you know what that woman 
has suffered ? ” 

“ Does she know what I have suffered ? ” re- 
turned Matt, “ through her transgressions ? ” 

“ She does,”^ said Simon, “ and bitterly repents 
of her sins. Her only prayer is for your forgive- 
ness. You have it in your power to make her last 
hours peaceful. For her sake, go to her.” 

“ No,” thundered Matt. “ I should only curse 
her.” 


ON THE TRAMP AGAIN. 


187 


“ ril risk that,” said Simon. “ One glance at 
her pitiful face, her emaciated form, would melt 
your anger. There would be no more resentment. 
It would do you good. For your own sake, see 
her.” 

^No,” said Matt wildly. I should curse myself 
for ever having loved her.” 

“ There’s one other reason why you must see 
her, — your child.” 

Matt started, and faced Simon, a look of tender- 
ness sweeping across his troubled face. 

My child,” he faltered. “ Does she live } ” 
Lives, loved and respected, so your wife says. 
It is her secret, only to be communicated to you. 
For the child’s sake, see her.” 

There was a glad, hopeful look in Matt’s eyes 
now. He grasped Simon’s hand. “ For the child’s 
sake, I will see her.” 

They left the field together, for Simon’s resi- 
dence ; and, two hours after, this message flashed 
along the wires to Royal Manning : — 

“ Matt Winsor is in my keeping. 

“Simon Stone, laU gardener ” 


i88 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Cf)apter Jfifteen. 

WAIFS OF SOCIETY. 

ER last day on earth. The physician had 
told her that, on his morning visit, in a 
kindly voice and with a pitying smile. 
The fatherly chaplain who had spoken words of 
cheer, and led her into the waters of repentance, 
and opened to her purified vision the way of im- 
mortal life, had said it, as he laid his hand upon her 
head with a blessing. The motherly matron, with 
a tear in her eye, had faltered the same words, as 
she stooped and kissed her. These three had 
been very kind to her, a poor bruised and fallen 
creature, brought to them from the lowest depths 
of a shameful life, while she had the will but no 
longer the power to sin. They had not turned 
from her with loathing. They had charitably 
received her, treated her with skill, nursed her 
tenderly, forgetting all that had led her there, 



WAIFS OF SOCIETY. 189 

remembering only she was a suffering woman, to 
be saved. And when all their efforts failed to 
bring her back to life, in all tenderness they pre- 
pared her for the great change, pointed out the 
lights over the river, that flashing back illumine 
the dark waters to the hopeful soul, and made the 
path easy for her bruised feet, with prayer and 
exhortation, heartfelt and sincere. She had 
thanked them for all ; but nothing they had said 
or done had made her more grateful than that, — 
her last day on earth ! 

In silence and at peace she was waiting. The 
day was slipping away fast. A strip of sunshine 
that struggled through the curtains, and had lain 
across her bed, had crept up the wall, was stealing 
across the ceiling, would soon be gone. She had 
a feeling that her life would go with it. All pain 
had left her. She breathed easily, rested quietly, 
wondering sometimes how this could be a change 
for the worse, as she had heard it whispered ; and 
even smiled at the thought. It had been a long 
time since she had felt so happy. 

Her story had its parallel in thousands. Mar- 
ried young, she was left, at the opening of the 
great Rebellion, a war widow, a woman who cares 


igo SOMETHING BETTER. 

for home while her husband is in the field. She 
forgot her duty. Young, attractive, and giddy, she 
listened to one of those shameless traitors who 
prowl about the home nest when its keeper is serv- . 
ing his country. She listened, and she fell, — to 
splendid misery, to shameful poverty, to this at last. 

The door softly opened, and the matron who had 
left her a moment before bent over her. 

“ Mary,” she said, “ there is some one here who 
wishes to see you.” 

• Mary’s eyes opened with a start. 

“ Is it he ? ” she said eagerly. 

‘‘ Yes, dear, it is. Shall I bring him to you } ” 

“ Can I see him alone, just for a moment ? ” 

“ Yes, dear, as long as you wish.” 

“Oh, thank you!” with a pleased look in the 
eyes. The matron was turning* away. 

“Mrs. Gray,” came, from the bed. 

“ Well, dear, what is it .^ ” 

“ Would you mind kissing me again for the last 
time 

The matron said nothing, but quietly stooped 
and kissed her. 

“ Oh, thank you ! ” said Mary. “ Good-by.” 

“ Good-by, and God bless you ! ” She left the 
room. 


WAIFS OF SOCIETY. 191 

“ God bless you ! ” She thought of that over and 
over again. Would he bless her? Had she any 
right to receive it? — she, with all. her sins, for 
which she was so sorry. Perhaps for that reason 
he might : she would hope for it, pray for it ; and 
she closed her eyes. When she opened them, a 
tall figure was standing beside the bed, and eyes* 
she had not looked into for many a day were fas- 
tened upon her face. 

“ O Matt ! ” It was a pitiful cry ; it was a pitiful 
sight to see two wasted arms feebly struggling to 
reach ; and yet the man stood there with folded 
arms, looking down upon her with a stern, hard 
face. Was there no pity in his heart ? Could he 
look upon the wreck of what had been the light of 
his home, see in the pallid features traces of beauty 
that had gladdened his eyes, mark the wasting of 
the form he had clasped so often with a lover’s 
fondness, remember the years that had separated 
them, and be unmoved by the spectre of the past 
that lay before him ? 

.No : his heart gave a great leap, and a wave of 
tenderness, sweeping over him as his glance fell 
upon her, almost made him cry out in agony ; but 
he forced it back with a strong effort. 


192 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


He had schooled himself to act a part. He was 
the wronged, and she the wronger. He would not 
reproach her, but he would not forgive her. He 
had thought all tenderness for her had died within 
him years ago ; and it had nearly mastered him at 
sight of her. 

“ I have come at your bidding,” he said coldly, 

as a stranger. Since we drifted apart so long 
ago, our lives have had little in common, and I 
hardly expected this summons ; but the wishes of 
the dying must not be disregarded.” 

He knew it, then, — knew this was her last day 
upon earth, — and could calmly speak of it. They 
were indeed strangers. 

She shivered with the thought. Could she hope 
for forgiveness, — she, who needed it so much ? 

'' I had no right to call you here.” She spoke 
feebly and with frequent pauses. “ I shall not 
keep you long. We have nothing in common. 
Yours was a good, true heart. You loved me once ; 
and when I drifted, that recollection followed me 
ever ; I could not blot it out. I have been very 
wicked, but nothing in my shameful life was so bad 
as that first crime. You forgot me, as I knew you 
would, — let not a shameful woman’s perfidy mar 


WAIFS OF SOCIETY. 


193 


your life. I can see that you look prosperous. 
You are well clothed, well fed, while I have walked 
in rags, starved and begged in drunken shame.” 

She stopped : a motion of his hand had bade 
her desist. His features were convulsed : he 
groaned and shivered. She had touched his 
shame. She, a weak woman, confessed her degra- 
dation : he, a strong man, stood before her to hum- 
ble her with his cold, stern air. Well he knew he 
had dragged his manhood through ways as vile 
and wretched as any she had trod. Nothing in 
common ? They had been waifs of society, 
shunned and scorned. He fell upon his knees, 
clasped her hand, and cried, the first great wrong 
forgotten, O Mary, Mary ! forgive me 1 My sins 
are as deep as yours.” 

The change startled her. 

“ O Matt ! then you will forgive me. I should 
die in peace knowing that. Only say it: that 
would be such a comfort.” He clasped the hand 
he held with a fervent pressure : that must content 
her, he could not speak. She accepted the silent 
forgiveness with a sigh of relief. It made her very 
happy ; and, with a childish joy born of her weak- 
ness, she flew back to the scene of her early life, as 
if all that lay between had been swept away. 


194 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Those were dear days when first you came, 
Matt. You’ll think of me kindly when you re- 
member them, I know. I loved you dearly, and 
watched for your coming, and listened for your 
footsteps, and was so happy ! Let us go back 
there : I’m getting so much better. I feel so 
light! I” — 

She stopped. Matt raised her head quickly: 
her eyes were closed. Had she gone ? And the 
child ? 

“ Mary,” he whispered. 

Her eyes opened. 

Matt, you do truly forgive me } ” 

“ As I hope for forgiveness, Mary. All is for- 
gotten. Now tell me of my — our child.” 

“ Our child She looked about her strangely. 
‘‘ Where is she. Matt Don’t bring her here now. 
You were always fonder of her than you were of 
me ; but I cannot stay but a little while now, and 
I want you for myself alone.” 

She had never loved the child. Its coming had 
awakened a jealousy strange in a mother. He re- 
membered it then. It was his child, and not theirs. 
She is not here, Mary. But you know where I 
can find her. Tell me, that I may seek her out.” 


WAIFS OF SOCIETY. 


195 


There was an eager look in his eyes, a feverish 
excitement in his manner, that betrayed him. All 
her senses quickened for the moment : she saw and 
felt it. His child had brought him there, and not 
a returning love for the mother who had so wronged 
him. Her jealousy flashed up in a last expiring blaze. 

“ She is well and happy ; has no need of your 
love as I have. Forget her as she has forgotten 
you. O Matt ! take me in your arms ; let me die 
upon your breast. ’Tis I who need all your tender- 
ness. Oh, take me ! ” 

With an imploring gesture she feebly raised her 
arms. 

Will you give me back my child ” he said 
fiercely. Have you not caused me misery 
enough } When I lost you I lost my manhood, 
became a wanderer and a vagabond ; and now you 
hold back the only hope I have.” 

“Will you not take me in your arms } ’Tis the 
last favor I shall ever ask. Matt, be merciful.” 

“ If you will speak the words I long to hear.” 

“ Come near, bend low : no other ears must hear.” 

He eagerly bent over her, and ^he whispered a 
few words. Then he stood erect, and gazed at her 
in wonder. 


196 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Mary ! woman ! do you speak the truth ? ” 

As I am a dying woman.”’ 

Then he acted like a madman, paced the floor, 
hugged himself, and laughed in triumph. His 
mirth sounded strangely in that darkened room. 
She followed him with her eyes until he stood 
before her again. 

“ Mary, you have repaid me for all my suffering. 
You have given me new life.” 

Will you take me in your arms now ? ” 

He sat upon the bed, tenderly raised her fragile 
form, and laid her head upon his broad breast, 
encircling her with his arm. With a low cry of 
joy she rested. She had found her way back to 
the old place. She was content. The strip of 
sunshine she had watched so long, as the omen of 
her departure, crept across the ceiling, glided out 
of the window, and still she lingered. Not for 
long: the dusky twilight deepened into gloom, and 
then, as once before, she drifted away from him. 
Not helpless and alone, upon a troubled sea, the 
sport of sin and shame ; but, sustained by the arms 
of a merciful Father, into the glad waters that wash 
the shores of an eternal rest. 


roy’s evening out. 


197 


chapter Sixteen. 

ROY’S EVENING OUT. 



|HREE months after, and the night before 
Christmas ; cold and dark without, warm 
and bright within. May, in a meditative 
mood, lounged in an easy-chair before the open 
grate, whose ruddy glow made a dazzling picture 
of the little woman, and threw into pleasing lights 
and shadows every object in the apartment. Roy 
sat at the table, his evening paper before him. 
Bess was at the piano, warbling in plaintive strains 
the old familiar air “ ’Tis the last rose of summer,” 
with her now constant companion, Marcus Graves, 
beside her. 

“ Thank you, Bess,” said Marcus, as the song 
was brought to a conclusion. ’Tis the last rose 
of summer, to-night, we pluck, — the last of our 
delightful courtship ; to be replaced with orange- 
blossoms, fit symbols of the fruits of happiness we 



198 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


shall then begin to garner for the future.” He 
bent over her with a glowing face. ‘'Ah, Bess, 
what blissful days are in store for us ! ” 

“ Poor devil 1” muttered Roy, with his eyes upon 
his paper. 

Marcus turned to him in surprise. 

“ Eh ? Were you speaking of me. Manning } ” 

“ Not I,” said Roy. “ One more unfortunate 
here,” tapping his paper. “Found dead in a door- 
way, wrapped in an army overcoat, with an empty 
bottle smelling strongly of laudanum beside him. 
Ah, so they go ! ” — with a sigh, — “ fighting bravely 
the enemies of their country in war, overthrown by 
a wily and cunning foe in peace.” 

May turned with a startled look. 

“ O Roy, could it have been ” — 

“ No one we have an interest in, I hope. May.” 

“ I was thinking of ” — 

“One whose name is no more spoken here,” 
Roy hastened to interrupt. “ I know to whom you 
allude. May. It was not he.” 

“ Then you have news .^ ” 

There was no mistaking the anxious look, the 
hurried tone. The tramp was still an object of 
interest to one, at least, in that little household. 


roy’s evening out. ' 199 

“ I can give you no tidings of him. When three 
months ago I returned from my search, we agreed 
to forget him. Let us abide by our compact. It 
can be no pleasure to you ; ’tis painful to me.” 
He threw down his paper, and rose with an air of 
impatience. ‘‘ When a man forgets all the obliga- 
tions of friendship, withholds confidence from his 
sworn comrade, and deliberately acts a lie, he no 
longer holds a place in honest hearts.” 

“ O Roy, so bitter ! ” said May, with a look of 
reproach. 

Roy crossed to her chair, and laid his hand upon 
her head. 

'‘To you, May, I owe it all. You, with your 
clear woman’s vision, pierced the mask, and dis- 
closed the deception. I thank you.” He strode 
to the window, and looked out. She was not 
deceived ; there was no thankfulness in the voice 
which pronounced those words. Bitter, bitter! 
she had wounded his dear heart by her folly. 
Would he ever forgive her ? 

“ It’s a blustering night,” said Roy, as he came 
back to her, and rested his hand on the back of 
her chair. “That’s a glorious blaze, May. Pity I 
cannot stay and enjoy it.” 


200 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“Are you going out ? ” said May. 

“Not to-night, Roy,” implored Bess, from the 
piano. 

“ There’s no place like home,” said Marcus, as 
he took the seat vacated by Roy, and picked up 
the evening paper. 

‘‘ Right, Marcus,” said Roy, with a taugh ; 
“ especially if it’s somebody else’s home, with a 
particular attraction in the shape of a pretty girl. 
Now don’t press me to stay, for you know you are 
dying to be alone with Bess.” 

“ Gammon,” growled Marcus. 

“ ’Twill be backgammon when my back is turned, 
and you two will make home a pair o' dice. 
There’s but one will miss me,” and he looked 
kindly at his wife. 

“ O Roy ! must you go ? ” said May with im- 
ploring eyes. 

“’Tis Wednesday night, and, as Nancy says, 
‘ my evening out.’ ” 

“ ’Tis Christmas Eve, and to-morrow is ” — 

“The anniversary of our wedding, May. Did 
you think I had forgotten that ? ” 

“ No, not forgotten it, Roy ; but on the eve 
of ” — 


roy’s evening out. 


201 


“ Such a glorious anniversary,” interrupted Roy, 
“ you think I should remain at home. No, May, 
duty calls me, — a religious duty, which I could 
not disregard even for the sake of your dear com- 
pany.” 

“ Roy, you are withholding confidence from me. 
You will not tell me where you go, why you go. 
Is that right .? ” 

Roy laughed. Inquisitive female ! , No, it’s all 
wrong ; but that I may right it I go, and you may 
have the blaze all to yourself. Imagine yourself 
Cinderella among the embers, and wish the fairy 
godmother would drop down the chimney to keep 
you company. Now tell me what would be your 
first asking ? ” 

^(That my husband would have no secrets I 
could hot share,J| was the prompt answer. 

Roy laughed merrily. 

That’s a very sensible request. What next ?” 

That in our midst, home again, she would place 
the wanderer, your comrade. Matt Winsor.” 

Roy did not kugh this time, but looked at his 
wife reprovingly. 

“ May ! ” 

With all my heart I wish it, Roy. That man’s 


202 


SOMETHING BETTER.'^ 


fate, the possibility of what he may have become, 
terrifies me. Think you I cannot feel how that 
wild act of mine has shadowed your existence ? 
When he left, driven from your doors by me, some- 
thing went out of our happy life I would give the 
world to reclaim.” 

‘‘May, do you doubt my love for you?” 

“ No, no ! not that, Roy. Not one word, not 
one look of reproach, for what I have done ; ever 
tender, thoughtful, patient. O Roy! I do not 
deserve it.” 

She covered her face with her hands, and turned 
her head weeping. Roy was moved. 

“May, you shall know all.” 

She turned her head quickly. He started, and 
moved to the table. No, no ! the secret was not 
his ; he must be patient ; she must suffer. He 
caught the eyes of Marcus turned upon him. 

“Well, what’s the matter with you?” he said 
impatiently. 

“ Manning, old fellow, here’s something will 
interest you.” He pointed to the paper, and, as 
Roy bent towards it, whispered, “ I’m afraid you 
are going over to the enemy.” 

“It’s about time,” muttered Roy, “when the 


Roy’s evening out. 


203 


enemy, as you style her, is a sweet little woman, 
stung with remorse, and the attacking forces men, 
strong men, who ought to be ashamed of them- 
selves. I don’t like it.” 

‘*Then strike your flag at once. There’s only 
one thing to prevent it.” 

^‘What’s that.?” 

‘‘Your promise.” 

“What in the world are you whispering about, 
you two ? ” Inquisitive Bess was close behind them. 

“ Bah ! ” growled Roy, turning about. “ That 
girl would break up a council of war with her sharp 
ears and inquisitive tongue. — Look up. May, I 
must go ; but this night will be the last. Before 
you sleep you shall know all, and I will ask forgive- 
ness for my cruelty. Come, get my coat ; that’s a 
dear. Time flies. I must be off.” 

“ You will return early .? ” 

“As I always do.” She left the room. He 
looked after her with a sigh. 

“ ’Tis a hard lesson, wife of mine ; but through 
the tears I see the smile, and behind the clouds 
the sunshine that shall bring peace.” His eyes 
fell upon Marcus and Bess with their heads close 
together. “ Halloo ! you two whispering ? I don’t 
like that.” 


204 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Third parties seldom do,” replied Bess, with a 
wilful shake of her tresses. “I like it; that’s 
enough.” 

“ And so does Marcus. He looks as happy as 
though to-morrow were to be a holiday for him.” 

’Twill be a holy day for us,” returned Bess 
with a proud look at Marcus. 

Y ou are to be married to-morrow, — to be 
enslaved,” with a mock sigh. Ah ! what will 
become of you two .? ” 

“We two will become one,” promptly replied 
Bess. 

“Yes,” said Marcus, “the sum total of my bliss 
will be a unit.” 

“How you cipher that ! ” said Roy with a laugh. 

Matrimonial figuring by addition makes two one ; 
subtracts sweets from added blessings, and multi- 
plies comforts by dividing labors. That’s the slate 
from which nothing can be wiped, but by fractures. 
Well, bless you, rny children ! hope you will be 
as happy as May and I, and never quarr^ 

“l^nd have no secrets^” added Bess. 

“ Ahem ! From you, impossible.” 

"^nd have no going out of nigh^* continued 
Bess. “ Hey, Marcus } ” 


Roy’s evening out. 


205 


“ Most certainly not,” emphatically from Marcus. 

“ Hark ! from the graves a doleful sound,” said 
Roy. “ You’re right, Bess, but charity calls me 
out.” 

“ Charity begins at home,” quoted Bess. 

“ And ends there,” said Roy ; “ but, if it be 
true, its line of duty, between the beginning and 
the ending, describes a circle that, like the equator, 
embraces the whole world.” 

That’s very good,” said Marcus. 

“(But you’ve no right to break the home circle 
and leave your poor wife alone,^ grumbled Bess. 

“ Alone ? Nonsense ! wli^ she has you and 
Marcus to amuse her.” 

“ Oh ! we’re going to have a game of billiards,” 
Marcus hastened to explain. 

“ Billiards ? that’s a etierious game for lovers. 
But there’s lots of ‘ kisses ’ in it. Eh, Bess } ” 

“ Oh, I could scratch you ! ” cried Bess good- 
humoredly. 

“ ni have a ' run ’ before you do. Here’s May,” 
as she entered the room with his coat and hat. 
“ Thank you. You won’t be lonesome } ” 

“ No, indeed,” replied May, helping him with his 
coat. 


2o6 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


‘‘That’s right. Bess and Marcus are going to 
play billiards. You don’t play, you know ; but you 
can count.” 

“Yes,” grumbled Marcus to himself, “one too 
many.” 

“ I’ve been giving the young people a lesson on 
charity,” said Roy, as he prepared to depart. 
“ Bess believes it begins at home, and now she has 
an excellent opportunity to prove her theory, by 
forgetting that ‘ two is company, and three is none.’ 
Good-by.” 

May followed him to the hall, and closed the 
door after him. 

>“I shall know all to-night,” she said to herself. 
“ He said it. I am content. I doubt not I shall 
laugh at my folly when I know the truth ; only a 
little shadow flung across the brightness of our 
home, so hard to bear. God pity those to whom 
the sunlight never comes ! ” 


A MEMBER OP THE RING. 


207 


Cjjapter <Se&ettteen> 

A MEMBER OF THE RING. 

ARCUS, what do you suppose sent Roy 
out to-night ? ” said Bess, as May left the 
room. 

“ Well, I think I could guess,” replied Marcus, 
with a knowing toss of the head. 

You could.? Isn’t that splendid? Tell me 
quick.” 

“Ah ! but it’s a secret.” 

“ Oh, dear ! now you are beginning to be myste- 
rious. Remember, sir, we are to have no secrets.jjf 

“ Quite right ; and, as you are not to learn this, 
we shall have no secrets still.” 

Bess pouted. “ Marcus, you’re as bad as Roy. ” 

“ If I am no worse than that estimable man, 
you will receive a treasure to-morrow.” 

“Take care, sir! ^There’s many a slip ’twixt. 
the cup and the lip.’ ” 



2o8 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Don’t be alarmed, Bess : you shall have the 
treasure; the lips will satisfy me now, and to- 
morrow my cup of happiness will be full.” 

“ Ah ! but I may change my mind before to- 
morrow.” 

“ Twenty times,- if you like ; but to-morrow you 
will only change your name.” 

“And my dress^. You haven’t asked me what 
I am to be married in.” 

“ I know, — in church.” 

“ Provoking ! Have you no curiosity to know 
how your bride will look 

Marcus drew her to his side. “ I know you will 
look lovely. Let others admire the setting, I shall 
have eyes only for the jewel. Come, a game of 
billiards.” 

“ Shall I call May?” 

“ No : I’ll call Nancy ” (he struck a bell upon 
the table) “ to light the billiard- room. May will 
find us when she wants us.” 

Nancy soon entered the room. ' 

“ Nancy, be kind enough to light the billiard- 
room.” 

Nancy looked horror-stricken. 

“ My gracious ! you’re not going to play billiards 
to-night ? ” 


A MEMBER OF THE RING. 


209 


“ And why not, Nancy ? ” said Bess. 

And going to be married to-morrow ? Well, I 
never ! Better be preparing your minds with 
something solemn. The Book of Job, now, will 
set you thinking of troubles ; and there’s a heap 
of comfort, at such a time, in the Book of Revela- 
tion.” 

With this bit of council, Nancy passed on to the 
billiard-room. 

Our good Nancy takes rather a gloomy view of 
matrimony.” 

Yes, poor thing : she’s no such happiness to 
look torward to. I think she is a little ashamed of 
her conduct toward Simon Stone. He’s not been 
near her for three months.” 

“ Since he threw up* gardening, on so short a 
trial. But Simon loves her still. I’m sure. He’ll 
turn up in good time.” 

Some one entered the room from the garden in 
time to hear Marcus’s remark, — 

“ There’s nothing shabby about Simon Stone.” 

“ You may bet your bottom dollar on that every 
time. How are you, Marc ? ” 

Mark turned quickly. It was Simon. 

“ Halloo ! ” said Marcus, in astonishment. 
“ Speak of the ” — 


210 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Don’t mention him,” said Simon, giving his 
hand : we cannot say any good of him, you 
know.” He; turned towards Bess. “ Miss Bess, 
your most obedient,” with a profusion of bows. 
** Allow me, in feeble words, but with heartfelt 
gush, to congratulate you and Marc on the happi- 
est day of your life, — to-morrow.” 

Thank you,” said Bess. 

Simon presented a small box. 

“ With hopes and wishes for loaves and fishes, 
— which means prosperity.” 

“Thank you,” said Bess, opening the box. 
“ Diamonds ? O Mr. Stone ! you are too gener- 
ous ! ” 

Marcus took the box from her hands, and looked 
at its contents. 

“Why, Si, old fellow, this is a princely gift. 
What is your falling now } ” 

“ My what is it ? ” said Simon indifferently. 

“ Your trade ? ” queried Marcus. 

“ Bother trade ! Don’t speak of it. I’m above 
all fhat now. I’m in the rine:.” 

“ The circus ring 

Simon threw back his overcoat, and, inserting* 
his thumb in the armhole of his vest, answered in 
‘dignified tones, — 


A MEMBER OF THE RING. 


2II 


“ Do I look like an acrobat ? ” 

He was clothed in the best of broadcloth ; and 
in the centre of his front of polished linen spcirk- 
led an immense cluster diamond. Marcus shook 
his head, and ventured another interrogation : — 
The prize ring ? ” 

“ Prize humbug ! Do I look like a bruiser } 
No, Marc. Fm a member of one of these mys- 
terious rings, you know, which surround the gov- 
ernment, keep it in place, without which this glo- 
rious Union would go to smash.” 

Marcus laughed at the grandiloquent air with 
which Simon spoke ; a proceeding which evidently 
nettled the member of the ring, for he turned 
abruptly to Bess. ^ 

“ Where’s Mr. Manning > I must see him at 
once.” 

“ He’s out, but will soon return.” 

Then I will wait ; ” and Simon plumped him- 
self into the chair beside the, grate. 

« Look here, Simon,” said Marcus, “ it’s rather 
queer that you want to see Mr. Manning. I should 
say Nancy would suit you better.” 

Simon looked into the fire reflectively. 

' Nancy } what Nancy } which Nancy ? ” 


212 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Nancy Nipper,” said Bess in surprise. “Have 
you forgotten her ” 

Oh ! ah ! yes, yes,” said Simon, rubbing his 
hands, and speaking slowly, with his eyes on the 
fire : “ I remember there was a young thing, rather 
smart, somewhat attractive, about here ; but when 
one gets into ‘ rings,' hobnobbing with senators 
and nabobs, one forgets these ” — with a snap of 
the fingers in the air — “ these little trifles. 
Nancy.? Yes, yes.” 

It was with difficulty Marcus repressed the in- 
clination to laugh at the bombastic majesty of his 
friend. 

“ Well, I’m rather glad to know that you are not 
in pursuit of her this time ; for, between you and 
me, Nancy has a chance to make a good match 
now, with one who is dying to get her.” 

Simon sprang to his feet. 

“You don’t mean that! Dying, is he? Hang 
him, ril finish him I After Nancy, my Nancy I 
Who is he ? ” 

Marcus answered with laughter. 

“ Ha, ha, ha I He’s a man who’s got above 
trade, you know. A member of one of those mys- 
terious rings, you understand. Ha, ha, ha! Si, 


A MEMBER OF THE RING. 


213 


old fellow, it won’t do. I can read you. You’re on 
the old trail. — Come, Bess, Simon will excuse us. 
He’s to wait for Mr. Manning. Come.” 

“ Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Stone : Roy 
will soon return.” 

“ Yes, old fellow, make yourself comfortable,” 
said Marcus ; “ and forget ” — snapping his fin- 
gers in the air — “ those little trifles.” 

Marcus and Bess left the room together. 

Not a word to. Nancy,” he said to Bess : ^‘let 
them fight it out together.” 

Simon, left alone, drew his chair before the fire. 

I’m on the old trail, am I } Can’t pull wool 
over his eyes. He’s right. Nancy is the dear I’m 
hunting. They say money is one of the sinews 
of war, the strongest and the mightiest. If that’s 
so, I’m on my muscle.” 

Thus soliloquizing, he lay back in the comforta- 
ble chair, and fastened his eye upon the fire. In a 
few moments Nancy entered the room, and, no 
doubt waiting to enjoy the sociable fire, seized the 
chair, whirled it round, and, without noticing its 
occupant, bounced into it. The sudden fall of so 
weighty a body caused Simon to utter something 
between a groan and a shriek, which bounced 
•Nancy on to her feet again. 


214 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“ Mercy sakes ! who’s that ? ” 

‘‘Needn’t rise on my account, Nancy,” faintly 
murmured the crushed Simon. 

“ What ? No, — yes, — it is Simon Stone ! ” 

“Just so, Nancy. Well, how are you.? You 
see. I’m down here on a little business with Mr. 
Manning. Didn’t think of seeing you. S’posed 
you must be married and settled afore this, Nancy.” 

Nancy, with her arms akimbo, looked her aston- 
ishment at this remark. 

“ Do you mean to say that you are not here on 
purpose to see me .? ” 

Simon shook his head. 

“ You don’t suppose a fellow is made of iujy- 
rubber, to bounce up after he’s been thrown, and 
run after the girl that bounced him, do you .? No, 
Nancy : when I quit gardening so suddenly, I 
made up my mind that chasing you, and getting 
nothing for my pains, was not a business that it 
would pay to stick to.” 

“ Very well, Mr. Stone,” in high dudgeon. 
“ Good riddance, Mr. Stone.” 

“Thank you, Nancy. Just at that point in my 
hitherto unfortunate career, Uncle Brim died, and 
left me a legacy.” 


A MEMBER OF THE RING. 


215 


Who’s Uncle Brim ? ” 

“ Uncle Brimmer Stone. We called him Brim 
for short, — Brim Stone ; pretty good name, for he 
was a regular old Satan. Well, he left me a thou- 
sand dollars.” 

A thousand dollars ? ” said Nancy, with en- 
larging eyes. 

“ Exactly,” proceeded Simon, not unmoved by 
the effect of his announcement. “ ‘ Now,’ says I, 
‘ Simon, you’ve been a rolling stone long . enough. 
You’ve got a nest-egg: sit still, and see what 
comes of it.’ ” 

** Well, what did ? ” 

Calker Goodwin, the broker, came and wanted 
to borrow it : a genial fellow after he found I had 
the money, though he did cut me the week before ; 
but then, legacies, like death, level all distinctions.” 

‘^ And you let him have it ? ” said Nancy with a 
groan. . 

‘^No; declined with thanks, as the editors tell 
the poets. Then he told me of a good investment, 
— the aris.’” 

The Irish what ? ” inquired Nancy. 

Simon laughed. 

*‘The ‘ Iris’ is a silver-mine, somewhere or 


2i6 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


nowhere, it don’t matter which. The stock was 
way down to eighty cents. Cal said it would rise 
in three days, and told me to go in and win. So I 
invested my thousand dollars in ^ Iris ; ’ and sure 
enough in three days it was up to five dollars, in 
a week to ten, in three weeks to forty. Then I got 
scared. The thing looked too big. I said to 
myself, ‘ Some poor fellow will get into this : ’twill 
bust, and up goes his all.’ Then la been reading 
about rich men’s not being able to enter the eye of 
a camel, you know ; and said I, ‘ I’ll be no party to 
any such business. There’s nothing shabby about 
me. I’ll sell out.’ Sold the next day at forty, and 
in a week the ‘ Iris ’ was all in my eye : it busted.” ^ 
But you didn’t,” said Nancy excitedly. 

‘*No, Nancy: I made forty thousand dollars. 
I’ve got it now, and it’s the thing I mean to stick 
to.” 

“ Why, Simon, you’re a rich man,” said Nancy 
with animation ; a vision of the coveted ’two-story 
house flitting before her eyes. 

Oh, so, so ! ” said Simon contemplatively. 
“You wait until we get our railroad, though.” 

“ Our railroad ? ” 

“ That’s one of my rings. I’m in lots of ’em.’* 


A MEMBER OP THE RING. 


217 


Where does the railroad run to ? ” 

*‘Into my pockets, if government will help it 
You see, it’s not laid out yet, but the papers are 
in proper trim for a grant.” 

“ Grant,” said Nancy : “ what’s he got to do 
with it } 

“ Oh, you’re simple, you are ! It’s no use to 
talk to you of these great schemes. Can I do any 
thing for you, Nancy } ” in a patronizing tone. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

Simon rose, and turned his back to the fire, 
placed his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, and 
tried to look dignified. 

“ Well, I’m not proud, Nancy ; and when I look 
at you the memory of departed days is strong 
upon me.” 

Nancy blushed, and looked down ; and a tender 

O Simon ! ” escaped her lips. 

“And if there’s any young man you want to 
boost into a business that would suit you ” — 

A stern and fierce “ Simon ! ” interrupted him; 
she was looking at him, very red and angry. 

“ I’d like to help him to a start. I can’t forget 
your helping me to a good many.” 

Nancy placed her clinched hand so near his face 


2i8 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


that he would have drawn back ; but that would 
only have been into the fire, so he was compelled 
to face Nancy’s fury. 

“ Simon Stone, you’re just as hateful as you can 
be. You’ve got money, and now come here to piit 
on airs before me. I knew you when you didn’t 
know where your next meal was coming from, 
when you hadn’t a whole coat to your back. Keep 
your money, and make the best of it. I don’t care 
that for you; ” and she snapped her fingers under 
the nose of the member of the ring, and prepared 
to depart. 

Where are you going, Nancy ? ” he said 
meekly., 

‘‘To the kitchen, where I belong. I’m no fit 
associate for one so high and mighty.” 

“Then I’ll go too,” said Simon, picking up his 
hat. 

“Indeed!” sneered Nancy: “a dirty kitchen is 
no place for a member of the ring ; ” and she flung 
herself out of the room. 

“ They’re into all kinds of dirty business, any- 
how,” Simon shouted after her. “Don’t think 
that will prevent me. — Well, I’ve made her about 


A MEMBER OF THE RING. 


219 


as mad as I dare to. She’s a smart girl ; and she’ll 
find that, with or without money, there’s nothing 
shabby about me.” 

And into the kitchen he followed Nancy, 


220 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


Ct})a}3ter 5Ets|)tem* 

A LATE VISITOR. 

HE fascination of glowing coals has bright- 
ened into power many a rough diamond 
thought, warmed into life many a deadened 
heart, and with many fond and pleasing recollec- 
tions quickened memory’s sluggish pulse to joyous 
beatings. Under the spell of their magnetic 
warmth. May was peaceful and happy, as she sat 
in dreamy mood before the beaming grate, awaiting 
her husband’s return. She could hear, occasionally, 
the click of billiard-balls, the shrill wail of the 
wind as it fretted about the corner of the house, 
the happy laughter of Marcus and Bess, and a 
faint murmur of voices in the direction of the 
kitchen. Of these she took no heed : her thought- 
ful mind was busy with the events of the past and 
the hopeful joy of the future. Before she slept 
she should know all. He had said it, and Roy was 



A LATE VISITOR. 


221 


the soul of honor. She had not been happy for 
the last three months. Until that fatal day there' 
had been no secrets ; but from that time the faint 
shadow of a barrier had lain between them. No 
coldness ; no, not that. He had been more atten- 
tive to her wishes, more solicitous for her comfort, 
and, strange for him, more profuse in endearing 
epithets. All this had made her suspicious. Not 
that his love for her had grown cold, and he was 
dissimulating for appearance’ sake ; but that he was 
endeavoring, with fevered and unnatural zest, to 
prevent his own betrayal of some mystery outside 
their home, with which he was concerned. Too 
honest to be a successful intriguer, his awkward- 
ness betrayed him. She would have laughed at 
his bungling, had she not felt that the key to this 
Pandora’s box of troubles had been inserted by 
her own hand, and that somehow the tramp was 
at the bottom of this mystery. On this subject 
Roy had kindly but firmly commanded silence ; and 
in that home his will was law. And so all this 
time, conscious she had committed an error, she 
felt that this withholding of confidence was the 
punishment for her transgression, and, painful as 
it was to bear, must be borne until Roy should 
break the silence that oppressed her. 


222 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


. And to-night she should know all. Those simple 
words comforted her. In their fulfilment she felt 
there was a power to lift a burden hard to bear, 
which made her happy. But glowing coals have 
the power to make one drowsy as well as thought- 
ful ; and so it happened that May fell asleep and 
dreamed, — dreamed of the outcast, in all his rags, 
standing before her, and taunting her with his 
degradation. It startled her, and she awoke, as 
she thought ; but, no, it must be she was still 
dreaming, for in the mirror above the mantle she 
saw the door which opened to the garden slowly 
moving on its hinges ; a figure like the tramp, very 
like, — the same face, the same dress, the same 
drunken leer upon his face, — leaned against the 
door-post, looking at her. It moved slowly across 
the room, stagged to the table. She wanted to cry 
out, to awake from the horried nightmare that 
possessed her, but her tongue was powerless. 

“ Roy’s wife how are you } ” 

She turned with a shiver : it was no dream. 
Matt Winsor was leaning against the table, to ^11 
appearances the same drunken, ragged sot who had 
stood before her once before. She fell back in her 
chair, and covered her eyes. This was her work. 


A LATE VISITOR. 


223 


“ ’Seuse me. You did — hie — n’t ’spect me.” 

With an effort she turned to him, and held out 
her hand. 

Oh, yes, yes ! You are very welcome. We 
have sought you, — Roy has.- I longed for you to 
come, to tell you how sorry I am for the wrong I 
did you.” 

“No such thing {hie ) : you did me no wrong. I 
deceived you, and you turned- me out like a dog, — 
a stray dog, — just what I was. What right had I 
’mong hones’ folks ? ” 

“ The right every man has to recognition when 
he attempts to shake off the shackles of habit, and 
be a man again.” 

Had May been looking at him, she would have 
seen the man’s face brighten at her words. He 
even raised himself, and made a step toward her, 
but sank back again. 

“Jes’ so; but you see it’s no use {hie). I fell 
again.” , 

“ O Matt, — Roy’s comrade ! — tell me you for- 
give me.” 

The entreating voice, the imploring eyes, the 
earnest movement of the little hands, must have 
recalled another scene to Matt, for he shivered and 
turned pale. 


224 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


“Well, you lis — hie — ten to me. You told me to 
go to my wife, — my deserted wife {hie). I went : 
she died in my arms.” He stopped : a shade of 
seriousness crept over his face ; and in a low voice 
he continued, “ Poor woman ! she had fallen by the 
way. I could not raise her, but I did the best I 
could. I made a pillow of the breast where beat a 
heart that once was all hers. She died there, — 
died like a child sinking to rest.” 

Very tender were the tones in which he spoke of 
the lost woman ; and May could see big tears roll- 
ing down his cheeks. 

“Why, Matt!” 

He quickly assumed his old manner. 

“Well, she died, she did; poor Mary Ran- 
dall.” 

May started at the name. 

“ Randall ? That was my name before I married 
Roy.” 

“Was it.^ (hie) ’Twas mine before I met Roy. 
That’s something you didn’t find out.” 

A terrible suspicion took possession of May. 
If it should be — She did not dare to give it 
thought. 

“ Well, well ! ” she cried, “ go on, go on 1 ” 


A LATE VISITOR. 


225 


That’s all : she {hie) died.” 

‘‘ But tell me of yourself. Who are you } ” 

Who am I ? {hie.) Don’t you know.'^ A tramp 
now, a soldier once ; a happy husband and father 
{hi(^ long ago.” 

“ A father } ” Nearer and nearer, the dread sus- 
picion was creeping into life. 

“Yes, I went to war; left them in a .happy 
home ; came back in a year to find the mother 
flown, the child {hie) gone with strangers. Then I 
went to battle again, to sell my life cheap {hie). No 
use : I could not die. I changed my name, the 
name she had disgraced, — and met Roy. You 
know the rest {hie). It’s only a tramp’s story {Jtie). 
Who cares for him } ” 

“ But the child 1 ” 

“ Oh ! I found her {hie ) : she’s all right.” 

May heaved a relieving sigh. Her fears were 
groundless. 

“ Yes : I found her, indeed, happy; a child to be 
proud of. But how would I face her ? — Qiie) I, a 
drunkard and a tramp.” 

“ Oh ! she would forgive every thing, run into 
your arms, and weep with joy upon your breast.” 

“ Would you do that ? ” 


226 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


He fastened his eyes upon her as he spoke, with 
an eager, hungry look that frightened her. 

“ I ? ” she faltered, 

“ Would you,” he said earnestly, no trace of 
inebriety in his manner, “surrounded by luxury 
and comfort, happy in the love of a kind husband, 
— would you take that man to your heart, present 
him to your husband ? ” 

Once more she faltered, “ I ? ” 

“ Yes, you. May Manning, once May Randall ; 
you who turned me from your door. Ponder well, 
for all the wretchedness and shame that cling to 
me is part and parcel of your father,” 

With a stifled shriek she waved him back, tot- 
tered forward, sunk into a chair with her head 
upon the table, for the moment stunned by the an- 
nouncement. 

Matt moved towards her; but a motion of her 
clinched hand told him she had not fainted as he 
feared. 

“ I have told you the truth, May. As I am, I 
have come to you, the father to the child. I go. 
If you, recalling whaP I am, what I have been, and 
what I may yet become, desire my presence, seek 
me. If you would escape the shame that must 


A LATE VISITOR. 


227 


come with the exposure, forget me, and my lips are 
closed forever.” 

She moved not. He looked at her tenderly, 
opened his arms as if he would take her to his 
heart, made one step towards her, then paused, 
shook his head, and silently left the room. 

She, lying there, heard all, and knew it was the 
truth. She who could not warmly greet her hus- 
band’s comrade, when he came, because of pride ; 
who turned him from her doors, jealous of the 
kindly heart that turned to him, — had found her 
punishment at last. She had turned her own 
father adrift ; and all his degradation was her work. 
Oh, shame, misery, disgrace ! So her thoughts ran 
for the few moments she lay there, ashamed to 
meet her father’s eyes. “ If you would escape the 
shame, forget me. ” No, no ! come shame, come 
disgrace, but not that : the wanderer should find 
rest. 

Ah, my darling ! you see I’ve kept my word.” 

Roy’s voice. She sprang to his arms with a cry 
of joy. 

O Roy, Roy ! never so welcome. O Roy, I 
am so happy ! ” 

‘'Well, well, little wife, tears are not signs of 
happiness. Let me get off my coat.” 


228 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


She took it from him, carried it away, and came 
back, not noticing the eager, anxious look with 
which he followed her movements. 

Now, May, for my promise ; to tell you the 
mighty secret.” 

No, Roy, hear me first.” She fell upon her 
knees before him. “ Hear my confession.” 

He quickly raised her. 

“Hush, wife! we have listeners,” he said, for 
Bess and Marcus at that moment entered the 
room. 

“ I care not : hear it all. One whom I thought 
dead, one whom my mother wronged, comes now 
in want and wretchedness, not to claim my duty, 
as he has the right, but, with a nobleness that puts 
to shame my pride, to seal his lips, that with a 
word could make me blush before, the world. Do 
you hear, Roy.? ” 

“ I am listening. May.” 

“Then seek him. It may be in dens of vice 
among the fallen and debased, but seek him ; and, 
when you find him, say I wait with loving heart to 
greet him home. His daughter waits, Roy.” 

“You need not seek him : he is here.” 

It was Matt’s voice ; it was Matt who entered ; 


A LATE VISITOR. 


229 


not the tramp, but the reclaimed, cleanly, well 
dressed ; the same Matt who had been turned 
away, his face glowing with happiness. 

May sprang to his arms. 

“ My father ! ” 

** My dear, dear daughter ! ” 

“ Roy, you hear? ” said May, when the pressure 
of those strong arms was loosened. 

“ Yes : I’ve heard too much. The weighty 
secret is out at last. — Matt, old fellow, you or- 
ganized this campaign. After your treatment here, 
you had a right to revenge ; but to me it has been 
a meaner battle than ever I hoped to engage in.” 

’Twas but to test a daughter’s love, Roy,” said 
Matt, with a fond look at May. “ All’s fair in love 
and war.” 

I knew you were deceiving me. O Roy ! 

“ I couldn’t help it. ’Twas Matt’s work: we’ve 
all been engaged in it.” 

“ Yes, all of us,” said Marcus. 

'‘Well, I never!” said Bess, with a reproving 
look at her lover. “ It’s the first I’ve heard of it.” 

“ It’s the first time, then, your ears have been 
off duty,” said Roy with a laugh. 

“They’re not trained to secret service,” she 


230 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


retorted. “ O Matt ! I’m so glad to get you 
back ! ” 

They gathered about him, and all the minutiae of 
the campaign, so happily closed, had to be explained. 
Presently the voice of Simon Stone was heard : — 

Come along, Nancy. I’ll make it all right ; ” 
and that worthy, blushing like a peony, entered 
with Nancy on his arm. 

Mr. Manning, I came down here as a bearer of 
despatches. — Ah, Mr. Randall ! The bomb’s ex- 
ploded, I suppose, seeing you’re here. Nobody 
killed, eh .? ” 

Matt laughed. 

“ No, old fellow ; not having you to meddle, all 
has gone swimmingly.” 

“ Glad of it. Mr. Randall, I was guilty of a mean 
act towards you once.” 

I thought so at the time, but since I have had 
divers reasons for believing the contrary.” 

“ Oh ! you’re thinking of that diving time. It 
was the other I meant.” 

Never mind, Simon : you’ve been a warm 
friend since.” 

“ Well, I do mind. It weighed upon me. I don’t 
like to be shabby, and so, as I’m in the ring. I’m 


A LATE VISITOR. 


231 


bound to wipe that out. There, sir, is a commis- 
sion as postmaster of this place : it’s a good one. 
I’ve influence, you know. If you don’t like it, and 
want something better, just say so. I’ll fix it for 
you, for I’m in the ring.” 

Nancy plucked him by the sleeve. 

You told me you’d have nothing more to do 
with rings.” 

“ Did I .^ ” said Simon. “ Well, I’ll keep my 
word. But there are rings we can’t do without.” 
He took a ring from his pocket, and placed it on 
her finger. “ This, for instance, is our engage- 
ment-ring.” 

Nancy looked at it with delight. 

“ Why, it’s a real diamond, Simon ! ” 

“ It is, Nancy ; a buster. This shall be followed 
by the wedding-ring, and that by the teething- 
ring.” 

Nancy clapped her hand to his mouth. 

“ Simon Stone ! ” 

Simon took the hand, kissed it, and drew it 
through his arm. 

“You shall have them all, Nancy. There’s 
nothing shabby about me.” 

After receiving the congratulations of all, Simon, 


232 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


with Nancy’s arm still tucked under his, as though 
he feared losing her, went back to the kitchen. 

Marcus and Bess returned to the billiard-room on 
the pretence of putting out the light. 

“ Well, little wife, are you satisfied ? * 

“ Can you ask it, Roy ? ” 

Ah ! old fellow ! the dear one was hardly 
pressed,” said Matt. “ She fought bravely, and 
won a peaceful victory. To her be all the glory ! ” 

“ She has stepped between the comrades of old 
days, only, I trust, to be the link that binds them 
closer,” said Mary. 

“Amen!” responded Roy, imprisoning the little 
hand that had enforced the sentiment with an 
emphatic gesture. 

But Matt was silent. He had found his child. 
Looking down upon the dear ones so happily 
mated, back to the days of shame, and forward to 
the years of promise, he saw no reason to blush 
for his presence there. He had fought valiantly, 
conquered himself, and found what Roy had prom- 
ised him when he snatched him from the -old life, — 


SOMETHING BETTER. 


LEE & SHEPARD’S LIST OF BOOKS. 


« NONE KNEW THEE BUT. TO LOYE THEE.” 


THAT WIFE OF MINE. 


T he literary construction of this book is superior to “ That Husband 
of Mine.” — Toledo Courant. 

H as twenty-five chapters that cannot fail to interest any reader. — 
Brockport Republic. 

^y^PLEASANT, charming story of a happy home. — Home Journal. 

T his is abetter story than that wliich concerns “That Husband of 
Mine.” — Lowell Vox Populi. 

W RITTEN in the same charming, original style. — Evening 
Standard. 

I S by far the most meritorious of the two books. — Schenectady 
Union. 

F illed with ludicrous scenes and incidents, and thoroughly enter- 
taining. — New Bedford Mercury. 

E very thought and expression sweet and wholesome in tone. — 
Record of the Times. 

^^^NE of the liveliest stories of the day. — Nashua Telegraph. 

F ar better deserving popularity than its predecessor. — Boston 
Journal. 

M any truthful and charming pictures of feminine human nature. — 
Milwaukee News. 

I NFINITELY better than any of the works of the same class. — 
Newport News. 

N umerous interesting and well-sustained characters. — Albany 
Evening Post. “ 

ASY and graceful. If you want fun, ’tis here you have it. — Boston 



Times. 


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A NEW BOOK FOR YOUNG GIRLS. 

OB'S" SOI^HIE nVEJL'X'. 

QUINNEBASET GIRLS. 

“A new story of Girlhood.” i2mo. Cloth. Illustrated. JP1.50. 
UNIFORM WITH THE 

doctor's daughter, 

Illustrated. ^1.50. 

“ The ‘ Doctor’s Daughter,’ ” says the Boston Transcript, “ is a 
country story, bright as a sunbeam, natural as life itself, unpretending as 
real goodness, and salutary as the primal effect of pure spring water.” 


OUR HELEN. 

Illustrated. ^1.75. 

“ A story as delightful and captivating to adult readers as the ‘ Little 
Prudy ’ and ‘ Dotty Dimple ’ books are fascinating to the children.” — 
Dover Inquirer. 

ASBURY TWINS. 

Illustrated. $1.7$. 

“ A charming story, as Sophie May’s stories always are.” — Troy Press. 


ALL BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

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A.BIDB WITH ME. 

By Rev. HENRY FRANCIS LYTE. 

Illustrated from designs by Miss L. B. HUMPHREY. 

Small 4to, Gilt, Ornamental Covers, Price, $2, 

Uniform with the illustrated edition of 

NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE, 

AND 

OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD ? 

Its author was a highly educated clergyman of the Church of England, 
endowed with fine poetical gifts, who, after his conversion, desiring to 
glorify the Father by laboring for the poor, entered upon his mission 
with new views, new consolations, and a new zeal, consecrating all his 
powers, his service, and poetic gifts to religion. Gentle and childlike in 
spirit, he served faithfully till his death — which was that of a happy Chris- 
tian poet. Like George Herbert and Charles Wesley, he sang while his 
strength lasted, and then quietly waited, till, “ rising from the sleep of death, 
he joined the hallelujahs of heaven.” 

This poem was written under the following peculiar circumstances, — 
as related in “ The Story of the Hymns : ” — 

“ It was the autumn of 1847 ; the gloom of winter was already settling 
upon the coast, and the pomps of decay tinging the leaves. The pastor, 
who was now preparing to leave the parish, and who seemed like one 
already hovering over the verge of the grave, determined to speak to his 
dear people once more, perhaps for the last time. He dragged his attenu- 
ated form into the pulpit, and delivered his parting discourse, while the 
great tears rolled down the hardy faces of the worshippers. He then ad- 
' ministered the Lord’s Supper to his spiritual children. Tired and exhaust- 
ed, but with his heart still swelling with emotion, he went home. The old 
poetic inspiration came over him, and he wrote the words and'music of his 
last song; He had prayed that his last breath might be spent, ‘ swan-like,’ — 
‘ In songs that may not die,’ — 

and this effort was to prove a literal answer to his prayer. The poem com- 
posed under these interesting circumstances was the well-known hymn- 
chant beginning, — 

‘Abide with me: fast falls the eventide.’” 

Sold by all Booksellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, upon receipt of price. 

LEE Sc SHEPARD - - Publishers, 


LEE & SHEPARD’S LIST OF BOOKS. 


BOYS, YOU’RE IN LUCK. 

The first book in the Lucky Series is 

“JUST HIS LUCK.” 


A CAPITAL BOOK FOR BOYS. 

A book written with great spirit, abounding in those incidents and situ- 
ations which cannot fail to awaken the enthusiasm, and cause the heart to 
beat with sympathy.’ It deals with 

REAL FLESH AND BLOOD BOYS. 

What they did, and what happened to them, is related in this book of 
335 P^^gss, in a most graphic and vivid manner. The plot is ever-moving, 
full of surprises, and abounding in peculiar combinations. To unravel it is 
a treat ; and to become acquainted with the strongly-marked individuality of 
the personages introduced, is a pleasure to those who wish to study charac- 
ter. You yourself will read the book with interest ; your wife will like it ; 
it will please your sister ; and, if you give it to your mother, she will say, 

“HOW LIKE THOSE BOYS!” 

Rest of the family will add, “ It is excellent ! ” while the young folks in 
particular will declare, “ It’s just splendid ! ” and will revel in its pages until 
they have read the last line. 

Price: Cloth, $1.00; Paper, 50 ets. 335 pages. 

The cloth edition contains many illustrations. 


Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers. 

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\ 

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HERE’S ANOTHER, BOYS I 

The second book of “ The Lucky Series.” 

HIS OWN MASTER. 

BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE. 


A MOST DIVERTING BOOK FOR THE YOUNG. 

Full of incidents of extreme interest, many of which are of the most 
thrilling nature ; and no one can commence to become interested in poor 
Jacob’s career without wishing to follow it to the end. The scene of 
action is laid on and near the Ohio River ; and many of the characters pre> 
sented, by their striking originality and rugged Westernisms, hold the atten- 
tion enchained from the first. Especially is this true of the quaint and 
warm-hearted peddler, 

I1.0:tTC3-SH:0E.E, 

who, by his intense application to the study of advanced science, frequently 
startles by his dogmatic assertions of physical and scientific laws ; also, the 
old aunt who believed in the 

“VARTEW OF EARTH TO CURE ALL DISEASES,” 

and who consequently buried her nephew in the soft ground of her garden, 
where he had an interesting 

INTERVIEW WITH A SOW AND NINE PIGS. 

It is bright, interesting, full of spirited incidents, at times overflowing 
with rich humor, and one which boys and girls will delight to read. 

It teaches the habit of self-control, patience, and perseverance, and 
shows that by judicious employment of these virtues one can become 

HITS 

Price: Cloth, $1; Paper, BO cts. SOB pages. 

The cloth edition contains many illustrations. 

Sold by all Booksellers and Newsdealers. 

LEE & SHEPARD ■ - Publishers, 


B O S T O I5T- 


LEE & SHEPARD’S LIST OF BOOKS. 

“JUST AS CUNNING AS SHE CAN BE,” 

Says a mother of the little heroine of the new book, 

Child Marion Abroad. 

:Bizr wl nyc. :f'. 


An accomplished young lady has given her impressions of Europe in the 
fascinating volume, 

AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 


The witty and sharp-sighted matron, her views in the equally popular 

BEATEN PATHS. 


The man of letters, in the twin standard books of travel, 


OVER THE OCEAN, 

AND 

ABROAD AGAIN. 


And now little Miss America, bright, vivacious, and talkative as “ Little 
Prudy,” “ Dotty Dimple,” or “ Flyaway,” crosses the ocean, roams about 
London, interviews the ex-Empress Eugenie, visits General Garibaldi, con- 
verses with the Pope, skims on parlor skates about palaces, views the old 
world with childish wonder, and is petted as an American princess. It is 
a charming child’s book that children of an older growth will chuckle over. 

Handsomely illustrated and richly bound. Price, ^1.25. 


LEE & SHEPARD - - Publisliers, 


B O S T O liT . 


New Illustrated Books. 


ABIDE WITH ME. 

The favorite Sacred Song, by Rev. Henry Franos Lyts. With 
Full-page and InitiaL Illustrations, designed by Miss L. B. Hum- 
phrey, engraved by John Andrew & Son. Sm^l 4to. Cloth, gilt . $2 oo 

NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE. 

The universal Praise Song, in Church and Home, by Sarah Flower 
Adams. Full-page and Initial Illustrations, designed by Miss L. B. 
Humphrey, engraved by John Andrew & Son. Small 4to. Cloth, 
gilt 2 oo 

OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD? 

By William Knox. “President Lincoln’s Favorite.” With Full- 
page and Initial Illustrations, designed by Miss L. B. Humphrey, 
engraved by J ohn Andrew & Son. Small 4to. Cloth, gilt a oo 

BALLADS OF BRAVERY. 

Edited by George M Baker. With 40 full-page illustrations. Large 
4to. Elegantly bound in Red, Black, and Gold. New style 3 50 

BALLADS OF HOME. 

Edited by George M. Baker. With 40 full-page illustrations. Large 
4to. Elegantly bound in Red, Black, and Gold. New style 3 50 

BALLADS OF BEAUTY. 

Edited by George M. Baker. With 40 full-page illustrations. Large 
4to. Elegantly bound in Red, Blade, and Gold. New style 3 50 

^SOP’S FABLES. 

A new and elegant edition with over one hundred illustrations. Large 
4to, gilt Ih Red, Black, and Gold 3 

BABY BALLADS. 

By Uno. With 40 illustrations. Small 4to too 

LITTLE SONGS FOR LITTLE PEOPLE. 

By Mrs. Mary Anderson. A new edition, with numerous illustra» 
tions. Small 4to too 

LITTLE SONGS. 

By Mrs. Follkn. A new and elegant edition. Small 4to. i oo 

LITTLE PEOPLE OF GOD, 

And what the Poets have said of them. Edited by Mrs. George L. 
Austin. A choice collection of the best poems on childhood. 4to. 

Cloth. Illustrated * 00 

The Publishers offer the trade extra discount on these books for special 

bills. 


Lee < Sr » Shepard, Publishers, Boston 


POPULAR NEW BOOKS 


OUR SPARKLING SERIES. 

Comprising books of acknowledged merit, as their enormous sales testify. 

Published uniformly. Paper, 50 cents. Cloth, ^i.oo per volume. 

THAT HUSBAND OF MINE. 

The great success, which in two months reached a sale of 125,000 Copies, 
and is still in active demand. 

THAT WIFE OF MINE. 

A companion volume to “ That Husband,” by the same author, just pub- 
lished, is equally attractive ; requiring 50,000 Co pies to fill orders received 
before its publication. 

THEY ALL DO IT. * 

The Danbury News Man’s new book, and decidedly his best. “ Ripe in 
humorous wisdom and profitable fun.” 40.000 Copies sold in three 
weeks, proves TH EY ALL LIKE IT. 

SOMETHING BETTER 

Is the title of the next volume, and a story of deep interest, though in a dif- 
ferent vein from the preceding stories of the series. It will be sure to 
please; all the volumes of “The Sparkling Series” being selected with 
that purpose. 

NOBODY’S HUSBAND. 

Follows ; and will, we are sure, prove himself an agreeable companion. This 
book has been advertised under the title of “Another Man's Wife,” but 
the author has changed the title, in order to have it correspond better w'ith 
the idea of the story. 

A PAPER CITY. 

By D. R. Locke (Rev Petroleum V. Nasby). Is one of the best efforts of 
this renowned humorist, satirist, and character delineator. (In press.) 


OUR LUCKY SERIES. 

Comprising bright and sparkling stories for Young People, by the best 
authors, is designed to give the younger members of the family what 
“ Our Sparkling Series ” gives the older ones, — The Best at the 
LOWEST PRICE. Paper, 50 cents ; Cloth, Illust., $1.00 per volume. 
JUST HIS LUCK. 

The initial volume is by a famous writer for the young, whose name is with- 
held for “ Luck.” It is a capital story, full of adventure, and with an 
excellent moral. 

BOUND IN HONOR 

Is by that popular writer, J. T. Trowbridge, and he has written nothing bet- 
ter. It is full of life and humor, and excellent teachings. 

HIS OWN MASTER 

Is also by J. T. Trowbridge. The publishers have secured these two enter- 
taining stories for “ Our Lucky Series,” and consider themselves “ lucky ” 
in being able to present the very best of this author’s writings. 

THE SILVER-SEEKERS ; or, Hal and Ned in Sonora. 

By Samuel Woodworth Cozzens. The author of “The Young Trail- 
Hunters,” and “ Among the Quicksands,” has the reputation of "being a 
capital story-teller ; and his longlife among the red men of the West, and 
his adventures in hunting and trapping, give him an inexhaustible fund 
from which to draw tales of thrilling adventure and wonderful daring. 
This story is his best. 

(!!^“ A // the books in this series will be by the best ajtthors, of interest to both 
old and yon 7 ig, and, though Tiever ^freachyf designed to mculcate both good 
morals and manners. Liberal discount to the trade for quantities. 


LEE SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON. 


.4 


\ 




# 


4 


i 


( 






OUR LUCKY SERIES 


Comprising bright and sparkling stories for Young People, by the best 
authors, is designed to give the younger members of the family 
what '‘Our Sparkling Series” gives the older ones, — The best 
AT THE LOWEST PRICE. Paper, Illustrated Cover, 50 cents ; Cloth, 
Illustrated, $1.00 per volume. 

b. 

JUST EIIS LUCK. 

The initial volume by a famous writer for the young, whose name is withheld 
for “ Luck.” It is a capital story, full of adventure, and with an excellent 
moral. 

HIS OWN MASTER, 

Is by the popular writer, J. T. Trowbridge, and he has written nothing bet- 
ter. It is full of life and humor, and excellent teachings. 

BOUND IN HONOR; or, A Harvest of Wild Oats, 

Is also by J T. Trowbridge. The publishers have secured these two enter- 
taining stories for “ Our Lucky Scries,” and consider themselves “ lucky ” 
in being able to present the very best of this author’s writings. 

GOOD OLD TIMES. 

By Elijah Kellogg, author of “ Elm Island Stories,” “ Pleasant-Cove 
Stories,” “ Whispering-Pine Series,” &c. 

THE SILVER-SEEKERS ; or, Hal and Ned in Sonora. 

By Samuel Woodworth Cozzens. The author of “The Young Trail- 
Hunters,” and “ Among the Quicksands,” has the reputation of being a 
capital story-teller ; and his long life among the red men of the West, and 
his adventures in hunting and trapping, give him an inexhaustible fund 
from which to draw tales of thrilling adventure and wonderful daring. 
This story is his best. 

OTHERS IN PREPARATION. 


£^A11 the books in this series will be by the best authors, of in- 
terest to both old and young, and, though never “preachy,” designed 
to inculcate both good morals and manners. 


LEE dv SHEPARD, P DP LIS HERS, BOSTON, 


NEW ILLUSTRATED BOOKS. 


ABIDE WITH ME. 

The favorite Sacred Song, by Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. With Full- 
page and Initial Illustrations, designed by Miss L. B. Humphrey, en- 
graved by John Andrew & Son. Small 4to. Cloth, gilt $200 

NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE. 

The universal Praise Song, in Church and Home, by Sarah Flower 
Adams. Full-page and Initial Illustrations, designed by Miss L. B. 
Humphrey, engraved by John Andrew & Son. Small 4to. Cloth, gilt 2 00 

OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE PROUD.? 

By W'lLLiA.M Knox. “President Lincoln’s Favorite.” With Full-page 
"and Initial Illustrations, designed by Miss L. B. Humphrey, engraved 
by John Andrew & Son. Small 4to. Cloth, gilt 2 00 

BALLADS OF BRAVERY. 

Edited by George M. Baker. With 40 full-page illustrations. Large 

4to. Elegantly bound in Red, Black, and Gold. New style 3 50 

BALLADS OF HOME. 

Edited by George M. Baker. With 40 full-page illustrations. Large 
4to. Elegantly bound in Red, Black, and Gold. New style 3 50 

BALLADS OF BEAUTY. 

Edited by George M. Baker. With 40 full-page illustrations. Large 
4to. Elegantly bound in Red, Black, and Gold. New style 350 

.®SOP’S FABLES. 

A new and elegant edition with over one hundred illustrations. Large 
4to, gilt. In Red, Black, and Gold 3 50 

BABY BALLADS. 

By Uno. With 40 illustrations. Small 4to i 00 

LITTLE SONGS FOR LITTLE PEOPLE. 

Bv Mrs. Mary Anderson. A new edition, with numerous illustrations.- 
Small ^ 

LITTLE SONGS. 

By Mrs. Follen. A new and elegant edition. Small 4to i 00 

LITTLE PEOPLE OF GOD, 

And what the Poets have said of them. Edited by Mrs. George L. 
Austin. A choice collection of the best poems on childhood. 4to. 

Cloth. Illustrated 2 00 


ZEE 6 - SBEPARE>, PUBLISHERS, BOSTON. 


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